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TALES  OF  ROBERT 
LOUIS   STEVENSON 


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tPUBLISHED  IN 
NEW  YORK  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S 
SONS     «     «      1907     * 


*  THE  NOVELS  and 
TALES  OF  ROBERT 
LOUIS    STEVENSON 


M 


ORE    NEW    ARABIAN 
NIGHTS  t  The  Dynamiter 
THE    STORY  OF  A    LIE 


afPUBLISHED  IN 
NEW  YORK  BY 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S 
SONS     *     %      1907     % 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE  DYNAMITER i 

Written  in  collaboration  with  Mrs.  Stevenson 

THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 271 


TO 

MESSRS.  COLE  AND  COX, 

POLICE   OFFICERS. 


Gektlemen  : 
In  the  volume  now  in  your  hands,  the  authors  have  touched  upon  the 
ugly  devil  of  crime,  with  which  it  is  your  glory  to  have  contended. 
It  were  a  waste  of  ink  to  do  so  in  a  serious  spirit.  Let  us  dedicate 
our  horror  to  acts  of  a  more  mingled  strain,  where  crime  preserves 
some  features  of  nobility,  and  where  reason  and  humanity  can  still 
relish  the  temptation.  Horror,  in  this  case,  is  due  to  Mr.  Parnell : 
he  sits  before  posterity  silent,  Mi.  Forster's  appeal  echoing  down  the 
ages.  Horror  is  due  to  ourselves,  in  that  we  have  so  long  coquetted 
with  political  crime ;  not  seriously  weighing,  not  acutely  following 
it  from  cause  to  consequence  ;  but  with  a  generous,  unfounded  heat 
of  sentiment,  like  the  schoolboy  with  the  penny  tale,  applauding  what 
was  specious.  When  it  touched  ourselves  (truly  in  a  vile  shape)  we 
proved  false  to  these  imaginations ;  discovered,  in  a  clap,  that  crime 
was  no  less  cruel  and  no  less  ugly  under  sounding  names  :  and  re- 
coiled from  our  false  deities. 

But  seriousness  comes  most  in  place  when  we  are  to  speak  of  our 
defenders.  Whoever  be  in  the  right  in  this  great  and  confused  war 
of  politics ;  whatever  elements  of  greed,  whatever  traits  of  the  bully, 
dishonour  both  parties  in  this  inhuman  contest;  —  your  side,  your 
part,  is  at  least  pure  of  doubt.  Yours  is  the  side  of  the  child,  of  the 
breeding  woman,  of  individual  pity  and  public  trust.  If  our  society 
were  the  mere  kingdom  of  the  devil  (as  indeed  it  wears  some  of  its 
colours)  it  yet  embraces  many  precious  elements  and  many  innocent 
persons  whom  it  is  a  glory  to  defend.     Courage  and  devotion,  so 


DEDICATION 

common  in  the  ranks  of  the  police,  so  little  recognised,  so  meagerly 
rewarded,  have  at  length  found  their  commemoration  in  an  histori- 
cal act.  History,  which  will  represent  Mr.  Pamell  sitting  silent  under 
the  appeal  of  Mr.  Forster,  and  Gordon  setting  forth  upon  his  tragic 
enterprise,  will  not  forget  Mr.  Cole  carrying  the  dynamite  in  his  de- 
fenceless hands,  nor  Mr.  Cox  coming  coolly  to  his  aid. 


ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVENSON. 
FANNY  VAN  de  GRIFT  STEVENSON. 


A  NOTE   FOR  THE  READER 


It  is  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  you  may  take  up  this  vol- 
ume,  and  yet  be  unacquainted  with  its  predecessor,  the  first  series 
of  New  Arabian  Nights.  The  loss  is  yours — and  mine;  or  to  be 
more  exact,  my  publisher's.  But  if  you  are  thus  unlucky,  the  least 
I  can  do  is  to  pass  you  a  hint.  When  you  shall  find  a  reference  in 
the  following  pages  to  one  Theophilus  Godall  of  the  Bohemian  Cigar 
Divan  in  Rupert  Street,  Soho,  you  must  be  prepared  to  recognise, 
under  his  features,  no  less  a  person  than  Prince  Florizel  of  Bohemia, 
formerly  one  of  the  magnates  of  Europe,  now  dethroned,  exiled,  im- 
poverished, and  embarked  in  the  tobacco  trade. 

R.  L.  S. 


THE  DYNAMITER 


PAGE 

PROLOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR  DIVAN i 

CHALLONER'S  ADVENTURE:  THE  SQUIRE  OF  DAMES,     ii 
Story  of  the  Destroying  Angel 22 

THE  SQUIRE  OF  DAMES— Concluded 6y 

SOMERSET'S  ADVENTURE:  THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION    83 
Narrative  of  the  Spirited  Old  Lady 90 

THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION— Continued 123 

Zero's  Tale  of  the  Explosive  Bomb 155 

THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION  — Continued 167 

DESBOROUGH'S  ADVENTURE:  THE  BROV^N   BOX      .     .   179 
Story  of  the  Fair  Cuban 187 

THE   BROV/N   BOX— Concluded 230 

THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION— Concluded 245 

EPILOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR  DIVAN 257 


CONTENTS 
THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

PAGE 

INTRODUCES  THE  ADMIRAL 271 

A   LETTER  TO   THE   PAPERS 279 

IN  THE  ADMIRAL'S  NAME 286 

ESTHER  ON   THE   FILIAL  RELATION 295 

THE  PRODIGAL   FATHER  MAKES   HIS  DEBUT  AT  HOME  299 

THE  PRODIGAL    FATHER   GOES   ON    FROM    STRENGTH 
TO   STRENGTH 307 

THE  ELOPEMENT 319 

BATTLE  ROYAL 331 

IN  WHICH  THE   LIBERAL  EDITOR  APPEARS  AS  "DEUS 
EX   MACHINA" 342 


THE  DYNAMITER 

Written  in  collaboration  with  Mrs.  Stevenson 


THE  DYNAMITER 

PROLOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR  DIVAN 

IN  the  city  of  encounters,  the  Bagdad  of  the  West,  and, 
to  be  more  precise,  on  the  broad  northern  pavement 
of  Leicester  Square,  two  young  men  of  five-  or  six-and- 
twenty  met  after  years  of  separation.  The  first,  who 
was  of  a  very  smooth  address  and  clothed  in  the  best 
fashion,  hesitated  to  recognize  the  pinched  and  shabby 
air  of  his  companion. 

**  What !  "  he  cried,  '*  Paul  Somerset  ?  " 

''I  am  indeed  Paul  Somerset,"  returned  the  other, 
"  or  what  remains  of  him  after  a  well-deserved  experi- 
ence of  poverty  and  law.  But  in  you,  Challoner,  I  can 
perceive  no  change;  and  time  may  be  said,  without 
hyperbole,  to  write  no  wrinkle  on  your  azure  brow." 

"All,"  replied  Challoner,  "is  not  gold  that  glitters. 
But  we  are  here  in  an  ill  posture  for  confidences,  and  in- 
terrupt the  movement  of  these  ladies.  Let  us,  if  you 
please,  find  a  more  private  corner." 

**  If  you  will  allow  me  to  guide  you,"  replied  Somer- 
set, *'  I  will  offer  you  the  best  cigar  in  London." 

And  taking  the  arm  of  his  companion,  he  led  him  in 
silence  and  at  a  brisk  pace  to  the  door  of  a  quiet  estab- 
lishment in  Rupert  Street,  Soho.  The  entrance  was 
adorned  with  one  of  those  gigantic  Highlanders  of  wood 
which  have  almost  risen  to  the  standing  of  antiquities ; 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and  across  the  window-glass,  which  sheltered  the  usual 
display  of  pipes,  tobacco,  and  cigars,  there  ran  the  gilded 
legend:  "Bohemian  Cigar  Divan,  by  T.  Godall."  The 
interior  of  the  shop  was  small,  but  commodious  and 
ornate:  the  salesman  grave,  smiling,  and  urbane;  and 
the  two  young  men,  each  puffmg  a  select  regalia,  had 
soon  taken  their  places  on  a  sofa  of  mouse-coloured 
plush  and  proceeded  to  exchange  their  stories. 

"\  am  now,"  said  Somerset,  "a  barrister;  but  Provi- 
dence and  the  attorneys  have  hitherto  denied  me  the 
opportunity  to  shine.  A  select  society  at  the  Cheshire 
Cheese  engaged  my  evenings;  my  afternoons,  as  Mr. 
Godall  could  testify,  have  been  generally  passed  in  this 
divan ;  and  my  mornings,  I  have  taken  the  precaution  to 
abbreviate  by  not  rising  before  twelve.  At  this  rate, 
my  little  patrimony  was  very  rapidly,  and  1  am  proud  to 
remember,  most  agreeably  expended.  Since  then  a 
gentleman,  who  has  really  nothing  else  to  recommend 
him  beyond  the  fact  of  being  my  maternal  uncle,  deals 
me  the  small  sum  of  ten  shillings  a  week ;  and  if  you 
behold  me  once  more  revisiting  the  glimpses  of  the 
street  lamps  in  my  favourite  quarter,  you  will  readily 
divine  that  I  have  come  into  a  fortune." 

*'I  should  not  have  supposed  so,"  replied  Challoner. 
'*  But  doubtless  I  met  you  on  the  way  to  your  tailor's." 

*Mt  is  a  visit  I  purpose  to  delay,"  returned  Somerset, 
with  a  smile.  "  My  fortune  has  definite  limits.  It  con- 
sists, or  rather  this  morning  it  consisted,  of  one  hundred 
pounds." 

*' That  is  certainly  odd,"  said  Challoner;  *'yes,  cer- 
tainly the  coincidence  is  strange.  I  am  myself  reduced 
to  the  same  margin." 

z 


PROLOGUE 

''You!  "  cried  Somerset.  "And  yet  Solomon  in  all 
his  glory " 

"Such  is  the  fact.  I  am,  dear  boy,  on  my  last  legs," 
said  Challoner.  "  Besides  the  clothes  in  which  you  see 
me,  I  have  scarcely  a  decent  trowser  in  my  wardrobe; 
and  if  1  knew  how,  I  would  this  instant  set  about  some 
sort  of  work  or  commerce.  With  a  hundred  pounds 
for  capital,  a  man  should  push  his  way." 

"  It  may  be,"  returned  Somerset;  "  but  what  to  do 
with  mine  is  more  than  I  can^  fancy.  Mr.  Godall,"  he 
added,  addressing  the  salesman,  "you  are  a  man  who 
knows  the  world :  what  can  a  young  fellow  of  reason- 
able education  do  with  a  hundred  pounds  ?  " 

"  It  depends,"  replied  the  salesman,  withdrawing  his 
cheroot.  ' '  The  power  of  money  is  an  article  of  faith 
in  which  I  profess  myself  a  skeptic.  A  hundred  pounds 
will  with  difficulty  support  you  for  a  year;  with  some- 
what more  difficulty  you  may  spend  it  in  a  night ;  and 
without  any  difficulty  at  all  you  may  lose  it  in  five  min- 
utes on  the  Stock  Exchange.  If  you  are  of  that  stamp 
of  man  that  rises,  a  penny  would  be  as  useful ;  if  you 
belong  to  those  that  fall,  a  penny  would  be  no  more 
useless.  When  1  was  myself  thrown  unexpectedly  upon 
the  world,  it  was  my  fortune  to  possess  an  art :  I  knew 
a  good  cigar.     Do  you  know  nothing,  Mr.  Somerset  ?  " 

"Not  even  law,"  was  the  reply. 

"The  answer  is  worthy  of  a  sage,"  returned  Mr. 
Godall.  "And  you,  sir,"  he  continued,  turning  to 
Challoner,  "as  the  friend  of  Mr.  Somerset,  may  I  be 
allowed  to  address  you  the  same  question  ?  " 

"Well,"  replied  Challoner,  "I  play  a  fair  hand  at 
whist." 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

'*  How  many  persons  are  there  in  London,"  returned 
the  salesman,  ''who  have  two-and-thirty  teeth?  Be- 
lieve me,  young  gentleman,  there  are  more  still  who 
play  a  fair  hand  at  whi$t.  Whist,  sir,  is  wide  as  the 
world ;  'tis  an  accomplishment  like  breathing.  I  once 
knew  a  youth  who  announced,  that  he  was  studying  to 
be  Chancellor  of  England;  the  design  was  certainly 
ambitious ;  but  I  find  it  less  excessive  than  that  of  the 
man  who  aspires  to  make  a  livelihood  by  whist." 

*'  Dear  me,"  said  Challoner,  *M  am  afraid  I  shall  have 
to  fall  to  be  a  working  man." 

**Fall  to  be  a  working  man?"  echoed  Mr.  Godall. 
**  Suppose  a  rural  dean  to  be  unfrocked,  does  he  fall  to 
be  a  major  ?  suppose  a  captain  were  cashiered,  would 
he  fall  to  be  a  puisne  judge  ?  The  ignorance  of  your 
middle  class  surprises  me.  Outside  itself,  it  thinks  the 
world  to  lie  quite  ignorant  and  equal,  sunk  in  a  com- 
mon degradation ;  but  to  the  eye  of  the  observer,  all 
ranks  are  seen  to  stand  in  ordered  hierarchies,  and  each 
adorned  with  its  particular  aptitudes  and  knowledge. 
By  the  defects  of  your  education  you  are  more  disqual- 
ified to  be  a  working  man  than  to  be  the  ruler  of  an  em- 
pire. The  gulf,  sir,  is  below ;  and  the  true  learned  arts — 
those  which  alone  are  safe  from  the  competition  of  insur- 
gent laymen — are  those  which  give  his  title  to  the  artisan. " 

''This  is  a  very  pompous  fellow,"  said  Challoner  in 
the  ear  of  his  companion. 

"He  is  immense,"  said  Somerset. 

Just  then  the  door  of  the  divan  opened,  and  a  third 
young  fellow  made  his  appearance,  and  rather  bash- 
fully requested  some  tobacco.  He  was  younger  than 
the  others ;  and,  in  a  somewhat  meaningless  and  alto- 

4 


PROLOGUE 

gether  English  way,  he  was  a  handsome  lad.  When 
he  had  been  served,  and  had  lighted  his  pipe  and  taken 
his  place  upon  the  sofa,  he  recalled  himself  to  Challoner 
by  the  name  of  Desborough. 

"  Desborough,  to  be  sure,"  cried  Challoner.  **  Well, 
Desborough,  and  what  do  you  do  ?  " 

**The  fact  is,"  said  Desborough,  ''that  I  am  doing 
nothing." 

** A  private  fortune  possibly?"  inquired  the  other. 

''Well,  no,"  replied  Desborough,  rather  sulkily. 
"  The  fact  is  that  I  am  waiting  for  something  to  turn  up. " 

"All  in  the  same  boat!"  cried  Somerset.  "And 
have  you,  too,  one  hundred  pounds  ?  " 

"Worse  luck,"  said  Mr.  Desborough. 

"This  is  a  very  pathetic  sight,  Mr.  Godall,"  said 
Somerset :  ' '  three  futiles. " 

"A  character  of  this  crowded  age,"  returned  the 
salesman. 

"Sir, "  said  Somerset,  ' '  I  deny  that  the  age  is  crowded ; 
I  will  admit  one  fact,  and  that  one  fact  only :  that  I  am 
futile,  that  he  is  futile,  and  that  we  are  all  three  as  futile 
as  the  devil.  What  am  I  ?  I  have  smattered  law, 
smattered  letters,  smattered  geography,  smattered 
mathematics;  1  have  even  a  working  knowledge  of 
judicial  astrology ;  and  here  I  stand,  all  London  roaring 
by  at  the  street's  end,  as  impotent  as  any  baby.  I  have 
a  prodigious  contempt  for  my  maternal  uncle;  but  with- 
out him,  it  is  idle  to  deny  it,  1  should  simply  resolve 
into  my  elements  like  an  unstable  mixture.  I  begin  to 
perceive  that  it  is  necessary  to  know  some  one  thing 
to  the  bottom  —  were  it  only  literature.  And  yet,  sir, 
the  man  of  the  world  is  a  great  feature  of  this  age ;  he 

5 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

is  possessed  of  an  extraordinary  mass  and  variety  of 
knowledge ;  he  is  everywhere  at  home ;  he  has  seen  life 
in  all  its  phases ;  and  it  is  impossible  but  that  this  great 
habit  of  existence  should  bear  fruit.  I  count  myself  a 
man  of  the  world,  accomplished,  cap-a-pie.  So  do 
you,  Challoner.     And  you,  Mr.  Desborough?" 

*'0h,  yes,"  returned  the  young  man. 

'*  Well,  then,  Mr.  Godall,  here  we  stand,  three  men 
of  the  world,  without  a  trade  to  cover  us,  but  planted 
at  the  strategic  center  of  the  universe  (for  so  you  will 
allow  me  to  call  Rupert  Street),  in  the  midst  of  the  chief 
mass  of  people,  and  within  ear-shot  of  the  most  con- 
tinuous chink  of  money  on  the  surface  of  the  globe. 
Sir,  as  civilized  men,  what  do  we  do  ?  I  will  show 
you.     You  take  in  a  paper?" 

"  I  take,"  said  Mr.  Godall,  solemnly,  "  the  best  paper 
in  the  world,  the  Standard. ' ' 

"  Good,"  resumed  Somerset.  ** I  now  hold  it  in  my 
hand,  the  voice  of  the  world,  a  telephone  repeating  all 
men's  wants.  I  open  it,  and  where  my  eye  first  falls 
— well,  no,  not  Morrison's  Pills  —  but  here,  sure  enough, 
and  but  a  little  above,  I  find  the  joint  that  I  was  seek- 
ing; here  is  the  weak  spot  in  the  armour  of  society. 
Here  is  a  want,  a  plaint,  an  offer  of  substantial  grati- 
tude: *'  Two  Hundred  Pounds  Reward. —  The  above 
reward  will  be  paid  to  any  person  giving  information 
as  to  the  identity  and  whereabouts  of  a  man  observed 
yesterday  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Green  Park.  He 
was  over  six  feet  in  height,  with  shoulders  dispropor- 
tionately broad,  close  shaved,  with  black  mustaches, 
and  wearing  a  sealskin  great  coat.'  There,  gentlemen, 
our  fortune,  if  not  made,  is  founded." 

6 


PROLOGUE 

**Do  you  then  propose,  dear  boy,  that  we  should 
turn  detectives  ?  "  inquired  Challoner. 

"Do  I  propose  it?  No,  sir,"  cried  Somerset.  *'It 
is  reason,  destiny,  the  plain  face  of  the  world,  that  com- 
mands and  imposes  it.  Here  all  our  merits  tell;  our 
manners,  habit  of  the  world,  powers  of  conversation, 
vast  stores  of  unconnected  knowledge,  all  that  we  are 
and  have  builds  up  the  character  of  the  complete  detec- 
tive.  It  is,  in  short,  the  only  profession  for  a  gentleman. " 

*'The  proposition  is  perhaps  excessive,"  said  Chal- 
loner; ''for  hitherto  I  own  I  have  regarded  it  as  of  all 
dirty,  sneaking  and  ungentlemanly  trades,  the  least  and 
lowest." 

*'To  defend  society.^"  asked  Somerset;  ''to  stake 
one's  life  for  others  ?  to  deracinate  occult  and  powerful 
evil  ?  I  appeal  to  Mr.  Godall.  He,  at  least,  as  a  philo- 
sophic looker-on  at  life,  will  spit  upon  such  philistine 
opinions.  He  knows  that  the  policeman,  as  he  is  called 
upon  continually  to  face  greater  odds,  and  that  both 
worse  equipped  and  for  a  better  cause,  is  in  form  and 
essence  a  more  noble  hero  than  the  soldier.  Do  you, 
by  any  chance,  deceive  yourself,  by  supposing  that  a 
general  would  either  ask  or  expect,  from  the  best  army 
ever  marshaled,  and  on  the  most  momentous  battlefield, 
the  conduct  of  a  common  constable  at  Peckham  Rye."  ^ 

1  Hereupon  the  Arabian  author  enters  on  one  of  his  digressions.  Fear- 
ing, apparently,  that  the  somewhat  eccentric  views  of  Mr.  Somerset 
should  throw  discredit  on  a  part  of  truth,  he  calls  upon  the  English 
People  to  remember  with  more  gratitude  the  services  of  the  police ;  to 
what  unobserved  and  solitary  acts  of  heroism  they  are  called;  against 
what  odds  of  numbers  and  of  arms,  and  for  how  small  a  reward,  either 
in  fame  or  money;  matter,  it  has  appeared  to  the  translators,  too  seri- 
ous for  this  place. 

7 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

'*  I  did  not  understand  we  were  to  join  the  force,"  said 
Challoner. 

* '  Nor  shall  we.  These  are  the  hands ;  but  here — here, 
sir,  is  the  head, "  cried  Somerset.  *  *  Enough ;  it  is  decreed. 
We  shall  hunt  down  this  miscreant  in  the  sealskin  coat." 

''Suppose  that  we  agreed,"  retorted  Challoner,  "you 
have  no  plan,  no  knowledge ;  you  know  not  where  to 
seek  for  a  beginning." 

"Challoner! "  cried  Somerset,  "  is  it  possible  that  you 
hold  the  doctrine  of  Free  Will  ?  And  are  you  devoid 
of  any  tincture  of  philosophy,  that  you  should  harp  on 
such  exploded  fallacies.?  Chance,  the  blind  Madonna 
of  the  Pagan  rules  this  terrestrial  bustle ;  and  in  Chance 
I  place  my  sole  reliance.  Chance  has  brought  us  three 
together;  when  we  next  separate  and  go  forth  our  sev- 
eral ways.  Chance  will  continually  drag  before  our 
careless  eyes  a  thousand  eloquent  clues,  not  to  this 
mystery  only,  but  to  the  countless  mysteries  by  which 
we  live  surrounded.  Then  comes  the  part  of  the  man 
of  the  world,  of  the  detective  born  and  bred.  This  clue, 
which  the  whole  town  beholds  without  comprehension, 
swift  as  a  cat,  he  leaps  upon  it,  makes  it  his,  follows  it 
with  craft  and  passion,  and  from  one  trifling  circum- 
stance divines  a  world." 

"Just  so,"  said  Challoner;  "and  I  am  delighted  that 
you  should  recognize  these  virtues  in  yourself.  But  in 
the  meanwhile,  dear  boy,  I  own  myself  incapable  of 
joining.  I  was  neither  born  nor  bred  as  a  detective,  but 
as  a  placable  and  very  thirsty  gentleman ;  and,  for  my 
part,  I  begin  to  weary  for  a  drink.  As  for  clues  and  ad- 
ventures, the  only  adventure  that  is  ever  likely  to  occur 
to  me  will  be  an  adventure  with  a  bailiff." 

8 


PROLOGUE 

**  Now  there  is  the  fallacy, "  cried  Somerset.  * '  There 
I  catch  the  secret  of  your  futility  in  life.  The  world 
teems  and  bubbles  with  adventure;  it  besieges  you 
along  the  street :  hands  waving  out  of  windows,  swin- 
dlers coming  up  and  swearing  they  knew  you  when 
you  were  abroad,  affable  and  doubtful  people  of  all  sorts 
and  conditions  begging  and  truckling  for  your  notice. 
But  not  you :  you  turn  away,  you  walk  your  seedy  mill 
round,  you  must  go  the  dullest  way.  Now  here,  I  beg 
of  you,  the  next  adventure  that  offers  itself,  embrace  it 
in  with  both  your  arms ;  whatever  it  looks,  grimy  or 
romantic,  grasp  it.  I  will  do  the  like ;  the  devil  is  in  it, 
but  at  least  we  shall  have  fun ;  and  each  in  turn  we 
shall  narrate  the  story  of  our  fortunes  to  my  philosophic 
friend  of  the  divan,  the  great  Godall,  now  hearing  me 
with  inward  joy.  Come,  is  it  a  bargain  ?  Will  you, 
indeed,  both  promise  to  welcome  every  chance  that 
offers,  to  plunge  boldly  into  every  opening,  and,  keep- 
ing the  eye  wary  and  the  head  composed,  to  study  and 
piece  together  all  that  happens  ?  Come,  promise :  let 
me  open  to  you  the  doors  of  the  great  profession  of  in- 
trigue." 

"It  is  not  much  in  my  way,"  said  Challoner,  ''but, 
since  you  make  a  point  of  it,  amen." 

'*!  don't  mind  promising,"  said  Desborough,  ''but 
nothing  will  happen  to  me." 

"  Oh,  faithless  ones ! "  cried  Somerset.  "  But  at  least 
I  have  your  promises ;  and  Godall,  I  perceive,  is  trans- 
ported with  delight." 

"  I  promise  myself  at  least  much  pleasure  from  your 
various  narratives,"  said  the  salesman,  with  the  cus- 
tomary calm  polish  of  his  manner. 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

"And  now,  gentlemen,"  concluded  Somerset,  *'let  us 
separate.  I  hasten  to  put  myself  in  fortune's  way.  Hark 
how,  in  this  quiet  corner,  London  roars  like  the  noise 
of  battle;  four  million  destinies  are  here  concentred; 
and  in  the  strong  panoply  of  one  hundred  pounds, 
payable  to  the  bearer,  I  am  about  to  plunge  into  that 
web." 


lO 


challoner's  adventure:  the  sqijire  of 

DAMES 

Mr.  Edward  Challoner  had  set  up  lodgings  in  the 
suburb  of  Putney,  where  he  enjoyed  a  parlour  and  bed- 
room and  the  sincere  esteem  of  the  people  of  the  house. 
To  this  remote  home  he  found  himself,  at  a  very  early 
hour  in  the  morning  of  the  next  day,  condemned  to  set 
forth  on  foot.  He  was  a  young  man  of  portly  habit; 
no  lover  of  the  exercises  of  the  body ;  bland,  sedentary, 
patient  of  delay,  a  prop  of  omnibuses.  In  happier  days 
he  would  have  chartered  a  cab ;  but  these  luxuries  were 
now  denied  him;  and  with  what  courage  he  could 
muster  he  addressed  himself  to  walk. 

It  was  then  the  height  of  the  season  and  the  summer; 
the  weather  was  serene  and  cloudless ;  and  as  he  paced 
under  the  blinded  houses  and  along  the  vacant  streets, 
the  chill  of  the  dawn  had  fled,  and  some  of  the  warmth 
and  all  the  brightness  of  the  July  day  already  shone 
upon  the  city.  He  walked  at  first  in  a  profound  ab- 
straction, bitterly  reviewing  and  repenting  his  perform- 
ances at  whist;  but  as  he  advanced  into  the  labyrinth 
of  the  south-west,  his  ear  was  gradually  mastered  by 
the  silence.  Street  after  street  looked  down  upon  his 
solitary  figure,  house  after  house  echoed  upon  his  pas- 
sage with  a  ghostly  jar,  shop  after  shop  displayed  its 

II 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

shuttered  front  and  its  commercial  legend;  and  mean- 
while he  steered  his  course,  under  day's  effulgent  dome 
and  through  this  encampment  of  diurnal  sleepers,  lonely 
as  a  ship. 

**Here,"  he  reflected,  ''if  I  were  like  my  scatter- 
brained companion,  here  were  indeed  the  scene  where 
I  might  look  for  an  adventure.  Here,  in  broad  day,  the 
streets  are  secret  as  in  the  blackest  night  of  January,  and 
in  the  midst  of  some  four  million  sleepers,  solitary  as  the 
woods  of  Yucatan.  If  1  but  raise  my  voice  I  could  sum- 
mon up  the  number  of  an  army,  and  yet  the  grave  is 
not  more  silent  than  this  city  of  sleep." 

He  was  still  following  these  quaint  and  serious  mus- 
ings when  he  came  into  a  street  of  more  mingled  in- 
gredients than  was  common  in  the  quarter.  Here,  on 
the  one  hand,  framed  in  the  walls  and  the  green  tops  of 
trees,  were  several  of  those  discreet,  bijou  residences 
on  which  propriety  is  apt  to  look  askance.  Here,  too, 
were  many  of  the  brick-fronted  barracks  of  the  poor;  a 
plaster  cow,  perhaps,  serving  as  ensign  to  a  dairy,  or  a 
ticket  announcing  the  business  of  the  mangier.  Before 
one  such  house,  that  stood  a  little  separate  among  walled 
gardens,  a  cat  was  playing  with  a  straw,  and  Challoner 
paused  a  moment,  looking  on  this  sleek  and  solitary 
creature,  who  seemed  an  emblem  of  the  neighbouring 
peace.  With  the  cessation  of  the  sound  of  his  own 
steps  the  silence  fell  dead ;  the  house  stood  smokeless : 
the  blinds  down,  the  whole  machinery  of  life  arrested; 
and  it  seemed  to  Challoner  that  he  should  hear  the 
breathing  of  the  sleepers. 

As  he  so  stood,  he  was  startled  by  a  dull  and  jarring 
detonation  from  within.    This  was  followed  by  a  men- 


THE  SQUIRE   OF   DAMES 

strous  hissing  and  simmering  as  from  a  kettle  of  the 
bigness  of  St.  Paul's;  and  at  the  same  time  from  every 
chink  ofdoor  and  window  spirted  an  ill-smelling  vapour. 
The  cat  disappeared  with  a  cry.  Within  the  lodging 
house  feet  pounded  on  the  stairs;  the  door  flew  back 
emitting  clouds  of  smoke;  and  two  men  and  an  ele- 
gantly dressed  young  lady  tumbled  forth  into  the  street 
and  fled  without  a  word.  The  hissing  had  already 
ceased,  the  smoke  was  melting  in  the  air,  the  whole 
event  had  come  and  gone  as  in  a  dream,  and  still  Chal- 
loner  was  rooted  to  the  spot.  At  last  his  reason  and  his 
fear  awoke  together,  and  with  the  most  unwonted  en- 
ergy he  fell  to  running. 

Little  by  little  this  first  dash  relaxed,  and  presently  he 
had  resumed  his  sober  gait  and  begun  to  piece  together, 
out  of  the  confused  report  of  his  senses,  some  theory  of 
the  occurrence.  But  the  occasion  of  the  sounds  and 
stench  that  had  so  suddenly  assailed  him,  and  the  strange 
conjunction  of  fugitives  whom  he  had  seen  to  issue  from 
the  house,  were  mysteries  beyond  his  plummet  With 
an  obscure  awe  he  considered  them  in  his  mind,  con- 
tinuing, meanwhile,  to  thread  the  web  of  streets,  and 
once  more  alone  in  morning  sunshine. 

In  his  first  retreat  he  had  entirely  wandered ;  and  now, 
steering  vaguely  west,  it  was  his  luck  to  light  upon  an 
unpretending  street,  which  presently  widened  so  as  to 
admit  a  strip  of  gardens  in  the  midst.  Here  was  quite 
a  stir  of  birds;  even  at  that  hour,  the  shadow  of  the 
leaves  was  grateful ;  instead  of  the  burned  atmosphere 
of  cities,  there  was  something  brisk  and  rural  in  the  air; 
and  Challoner  paced  forward,  his  eyes  upon  the  pave- 
ment and  his  mind  running  upon  distant  scenes,  till  he 

>3 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

was  recalled,  upon  a  sudden,  by  a  wall  that  blocked  his 
further  progress.  This  street,  whose  name  I  have  for- 
gotten, is  no  thoroughfare. 

He  was  not  the  first  who  had  wandered  there  that 
morning;  for  as  he  raised  his  eyes  with  an  agreeable 
deliberation,  they  alighted  on  the  figure  of  a  girl,  in 
whom  he  was  struck  to  recognize  the  third  of  the  in- 
congruous fugitives.  She  had  run  there,  seemingly, 
blindfold;  the  wall  had  checked  her  career,  and  being 
entirely  wearied,  she  had  sunk  upon  the  ground  beside 
the  garden  railings,  soiling  her  dress  among  the  sum- 
mer dust.  Each  saw  the  other  in  the  same  instant  of 
time;  and  she,  with  one  wild  look,  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  began  to  hurry  from  the  scene. 

Challoner  was  doubly  startled  to  meet  once  more  the 
heroine  of  his  adventure  and  to  observe  the  fear  with 
which  she  shunned  him.  Pity  and  alarm,  in  nearly 
equal  forces,  contested  the  possession  of  his  mind,  and 
yet,  in  spite  of  both,  he  saw  himself  condemned  to  fol- 
low in  the  lady's  wake.  He  did  so  gingerly,  as  fearing 
to  increase  her  terrors ;  but  tread  as  lightly  as  he  might, 
his  footfalls  eloquently  echoed  in  the  empty  street. 
Their  sound  appeared  to  strike  in  her  some  strong  emo- 
tion, for  scarce  had  he  begun  to  follow  ere  she  paused. 
A  second  time  she  addressed  herself  to  flight,  and  a 
second  time  she  paused.  Then  she  turned  about,  and 
with  doubtful  steps  and  the  most  attractive  appearance 
of  timidity,  drew  near  to  the  young  man.  He  on  his 
side  continued  to  advance  with  similar  signals  of  dis- 
tress and  bashfulness.  At  length,  when  they  were  but 
some  steps  apart,  he  saw  her  eyes  brim  over,  and  she 
reached  out  both  her  hands  in  eloquent  appeal. 

'4 


THE  SQUIRE  OF   DAMES 

"Are  you  an  English  gentleman  ?"  she  cried. 

The  unhappy  Challoner  regarded  her  with  consterna- 
tion. He  was  the  spirit  of  fine  courtesy,  and  would 
have  blushed  to  fail  in  his  devoirs  to  any  lady ;  but,  in 
the  other  scale,  he  was  a  man  averse  from  amorous  ad- 
ventures. He  looked  east  and  west,  but  the  houses 
that  looked  down  upon  this  interview  remained  inex- 
orably shut,  and  he  saw  himself,  though  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  day's  eye,  cut  off  from  any  human  inter- 
vention. His  looks  returned  at  last  upon  the  suppliant. 
He  remarked  with  irritation  that  she  was  charming  both 
in  face  and  figure,  elegantly  dressed  and  gloved :  a  lady 
undeniable;  the  picture  ofdistress  and  innocence;  weep- 
ing and  lost  in  the  city  of  diurnal  sleep. 

" Madam,"  he  said,  "I  protest  you  have  no  cause  to 
fear  intrusion,  and  if  I  have  appeared  to  follow  you,  the 
fault  is  in  this  street,  which  has  deceived  us  both." 

An  unmistakable  relief  appeared  upon  the  lady's  face. 
'*]  might  have  guessed  it!"  she  exclaimed.  **  Thank 
you  a  thousand  times !  But  at  this  hour,  in  this  appall- 
ing silence,  and  among  all  these  staring  windows,  I  am 
los.t  in  terrors  —  oh,  lost  in  them ! "  she  cried,  her  face 
blanching  at  the  words.  "  I  beg  you  to  lend  me  your 
arm,"  she  added  with  the  loveliest,  suppliant  inflection. 
"I  dare  not  go  alone;  my  nerve  is  gone — I  had  a 
shock,  oh,  what  a  shock !  I  beg  of  you  to  be  my  es- 
cort." 

*'My  dear  madam,"  responded  Challoner,  heavily, 
*'  my  arm  is  at  your  service." 

She  took  it  and  clung  to  it  for  a  moment,  struggling 
with  her  sobs,  and  the  next,  with  feverish  hurry,  began 
to  lead  him  in  the  direction  of  the  city.    One  thing  was 

15 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

plain,  among  so  much  that  was  obscure :  it  was  plain 
her  fears  were  genuine.  Still,  as  she  went,  she  spied 
around  as  if  for  dangers,  and  now  she  would  shiver 
like  a  person  in  a  chill  and  now  clutch  his  arm  in  hers. 
To  Challoner  her  terror  was  at  once  repugnant  and  in- 
fectious ;  it  gained  and  mastered,  while  it  still  offended 
him,  and  he  wailed  in  spirit  and  longed  for  release. 

*'  Madam,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  am,  of  course,  charmed 
to  be  of  use  to  any  lady,  but  I  confess  I  was  bound  in  a 
direction  opposite  to  that  you  follow,  and  a  word  of  ex- 
planation  " 

*'Hush!"  she  sobbed,  "not  here  —  not  here." 

The  blood  of  Challoner  ran  cold.  He  might  have 
thought  the  lady  mad,  but  his  memory  was  charged 
with  more  perilous  stuff,  and  in  view  of  the  detonation, 
the  smoke  and  the  flight  of  the  ill  assorted  trio,  his  mind 
was  lost  among  mysteries.  So  they  continued  to  thread 
the  maze  of  streets  in  silence  with  the  speed  of  a  guilty 
flight,  and  both  thrilling  with  incommunicable  terrors. 
In  time,  however,  and  above  all  by  their  quick  pace  of 
walking,  the  pair  began  to  rise  to  firmer  spirits;  the 
lady  ceased  to  peer  about  the  corners ;  and  Challoner, 
emboldened  by  the  resonant  tread  and  distant  figure  of 
a  constable,  returned  to  the  charge  with  more  of  spirit 
and  directness. 

**I  thought,"  said  he,  in  the  tone  of  conversation, 
"that  I  had  indistinctly  perceived  you  leaving  a  villa  in 
the  company  of  two  gentlemen." 

"  Oh!  "  she  said,  "you  need  not  fear  to  wound  me 
by  the  truth.  You  saw  me  flee  from  a  common  lodg^ 
ing-house,  and  my  companions  were  not  gentlemen. 
In  such  a  case,  the  best  of  compliments  is  to  be  frank." 

i6 


THE  SQUIRE  OF   DAMES 

"  I  thought,"  resumed  Challoner,  encouraged  as  much 
as  he  was  surprised  by  the  spirit  of  her  reply,  *'  to  have 
perceived,  besides,  a  certain  odour.  A  noise,  too — I  do 
not  know  to  what  I  should  compare  it " 

*  *  Silence ! "  she  cried.  '  *  You  do  not  know  the  danger 
you  invoke.  Wait,  only  wait ;  and  as  soon  as  we  have 
left  those  streets  and  got  beyond  the  reach  of  listeners, 
all  shall  be  explained.  Meanwhile,  avoid  the  topic. 
What  a  sight  is  this  sleeping  city!  "  she  exclaimed;  and 
then,  with  a  most  thrilling  voice,  '''Dear  God,'  she 
quoted,  **  *the  very  houses  seem  asleep.  And  all  that 
mighty  heart  is  lying  still.'  " 

"I  perceive,  madam,"  said  he,  "you  are  a  reader." 

"I  am  more  than  that,"  she  answered,  with  a  sigh. 
"I  am  a  girl  condemned  to  thoughts  beyond  her  age; 
and  so  untoward  is  my  fate,  that  this  walk  upon  the  arm 
of  a  stranger  is  like  an  interlude  of  peace." 

They  had  come  by  this  time  to  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Victoria  Station ;  and  here,  at  a  street  corner,  the 
young  lady  paused,  withdrew  her  arm  from  Challoner's 
and  looked  up  and  down  as  though  in  pain  or  inde- 
cision. Then,  with  a  lovely  change  of  countenance, 
and  laying  her  gloved  hand  upon  his  arm : 

"  What  you  already  think  of  me,"  she  said,  "  I  trem- 
ble to  conceive ;  yet  I  must  here  condemn  myself  still 
further.  Here  I  must  leave  you,  and  here  I  beseech  you 
to  wait  for  my  return.  Do  not  attempt  to  follow  me  or 
spy  upon  my  actions.  Suspend  yet  awhile  your  judg- 
ment of  a  girl  as  innocent  as  your  own  sister;  and  do 
not,  above  all,  desert  me.  Stranger  as  you  are,  I  have 
none  else  to  look  to.  You  see  me  in  sorrow  and  great 
fear;  you  are  a  gentleman,  courteous  and  kind;  and 

'7 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

when  I  beg  for  a  few  minutes'  patience,  I  make  sure  be- 
forehand you  will  not  deny  me." 

Challoner  grudgingly  promised ;  and  the  young  lady, 
with  a  grateful  eye-shot,  vanished  round  the  corner. 
But  the  force  of  her  appeal  had  been  a  little  blunted ; 
for  the  young  man  was  not  only  destitute  of  sisters,  but 
of  any  female  relative  nearer  than  a  great-aunt  in  Wales. 
Now  he  was  alone;  besides,  the  spell  that  he  had 
hitherto  obeyed  began  to  weaken;  he  considered  his 
behaviour  with  a  sneer;  and  plucking  up  the  spirit  of 
revolt,  he  started  in  pursuit.  The  reader,  if  he  has  ever 
plied  the  fascinating  trade  of  the  noctambulist,  will  not 
be  unaware  that,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  great  rail- 
way centers,  certain  early  taverns  inaugurate  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day.  It  was  into  one  of  these  that  Challoner, 
coming  round  the  corner  of  the  block,  beheld  his  charm- 
ing companion  disappear.  To  say  he  was  surprised 
were  inexact,  for  he  had  long  since  left  that  sentiment 
behind  him.  Acute  disgust  and  disappointment  seized 
upon  his  soul;  and  with  silent  oaths  he  damned  this 
commonplace  enchantress.  She  had  scarce  been  gone 
a  second,  ere  the  swing-doors  reopened,  and  she  ap- 
peared again  in  company  with  a  young  man  of  mean 
and  slouching  attire.  For  some  five  or  six  exchanges 
they  conversed  together  with  an  animated  air :  then  the 
fellow  shouldered  again  into  the  tap;  and  the  young 
lady,  with  something  swifter  than  a  walk,  retraced  her 
steps  toward  Challoner.  He  saw  her  coming,  a  miracle 
of  grace;  her  ankle,  as  she  hurried,  flashing  from  her 
dress;  her  movements  eloquent  of  speed  and  youth; 
and  though  he  still  entertained  some  thoughts  of  flight, 
they  grew  miserably  fainter  as  the  distance  lessened. 

18 


THE  SQUIRE  OF   DAMES 

Against  mere  beauty  he  was  proof:  it  was  her  unmis- 
takable gentility  that  now  robbed  him  of  the  courage 
of  his  cowardice.  With  a  proved  adventuress  he  had 
acted  strictly  on  his  right;  with  one  whom,  in  spite  of 
all,  he  could  not  quite  deny  to  be  a  lady,  he  found  him- 
self disarmed.  At  the  very  corner  from  whence  he  had 
spied  upon  her  interview,  she  came  upon  him,  still 
transfixed,  and — '*Ah!"  she  cried,  with  a  bright  flush 
of  color.     ' '  Ah !    Ungenerous ! " 

The  sharpness  of  the  attack  somewhat  restored  the 
Squire  of  Dames  to  the  possession  of  himself 

**  Madam,"  he  returned,  with  a  fair  show  of  stoutness, 
'*l  do  not  think  that  hitherto  you  can  complain  of  any 
lack  of  generosity ;  I  have  suffered  myself  to  be  led  over 
a  considerable  portion  of  the  metropolis ;  and  if  I  now  re- 
quest you  to  discharge  me  of  my  office  of  protector,  you 
have  friends  at  hand  who  will  be  glad  of  the  succession." 

She  stood  a  moment  dumb. 

"  It  is  well,"  she  said.  ''Go!  go,  and  may  God  help 
me!  You  have  seen  me — me,  an  innocent  girl !  fleeing 
from  a  dire  catastrophe  and  haunted  by  sinister  men ; 
and  neither  pity,  curiosity,  nor  honour  move  you  to 
await  my  explanation  or  to  help  me  in  my  distress. 
Go! "  she  repeated.  "  I  am  lost  indeed."  And  with  a 
passionate  gesture  she  turned  and  fled  along  the  street. 

Challoner  observed  her  retreat  and  disappear,  an  al- 
most intolerable  sense  of  guilt  contending  with  the 
profound  sense  that  he  was  being  gulled.  She  was  no 
sooner  gone  than  the  first  of  these  feelings  took  the 
upper  hand ;  he  felt,  if  he  had  done  her  less  than  jus- 
tice, that  his  conduct  was  a  perfect  model  of  the  un- 
gracious; the  cultured  tone  of  her  voice,  her  choice  of 

19 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

language,  and  the  elegant  decorum  of  her  movements 
cried  out  aloud  against  a  harsh  construction;  and  be- 
tween penitence  and  curiosity  he  began  slowly  to  follow 
in  her  wake.  At  the  corner  he  had  her  once  more  full 
in  view.  Her  speed  was  failing  like  a  stricken  bird's. 
Even  as  he  looked,  she  threw  her  arm  out  gropingly, 
and  fell  and  leaned  against  the  wall.  At  the  spectacle, 
Challoner's  fortitude  gave  way.  In  a  few  strides  he 
overtook  her  and,  for  the  first  time  removing  his  hat,  as- 
sured her  in  the  most  moving  terms  of  his  entire  respect 
and  firm  desire  to  help  her.  He  spoke  at  first  unheeded ; 
but  gradually  it  appeared  that  she  began  to  comprehend 
his  words ;  she  moved  a  little,  and  drew  herself  upright ; 
and  finally,  as  with  a  sudden  movement  of  forgiveness, 
turned  on  the  young  man  a  countenance  in  which  re- 
proach and  gratitude  were  mingled.  "Ah,  madam," 
he  cried,  *'use  me  as  you  will!"  And  once  more,  but 
now  with  a  great  air  of  deference,  he  offered  her  the 
conduct  of  his  arm.  She  took  it  with  a  sigh  that  struck 
him  to  the  heart;  and  they  began  once  more  to  trace 
the  deserted  streets.  But  now  her  steps,  as  though 
exhausted  by  emotion,  began  to  linger  on  the  way ;  she 
leaned  the  more  heavily  upon  his  arm ;  and  he,  like  the 
parent  bird,  stooped  fondly  above  his  drooping  convoy. 
Her  physical  distress  was  not  accompanied  by  any  fail- 
ing of  her  spirits ;  and  hearing  her  strike  so  soon  into  a 
playful  and  charming  vein  of  talk,  Challoner  could  not 
sufficiently  admire  the  elasticity  of  his  companion's 
nature.  "Let  me  forget,"  she  had  said,  "for  one  half 
hour,  let  me  forget ; "  and  sure  enough,  with  the  very 
word,  her  sorrows  appeared  to  be  forgotten.  Before 
every  house  she  paused,  invented  a  name  for  the  pro- 


THE  SQUIRE  OF   DAMES 

prietor,  and  sketched  his  character:  here  lived  the  old 
general  whom  she  was  to  marry  on  the  fifth  of  the 
next  month,  there  was  the  mansion  of  the  rich  widow 
who  had  set  her  heart  on  Challoner;  and  though  she 
still  hung  wearily  on  the  young  man's  arm,  her  laughter 
sounded  low  and  pleasant  in  his  ears.  **Ah,"  she 
sighed,  by  way  of  commentary,  '*in  such  a  life  as  mine 
I  must  seize  tight  hold  of  any  happiness  that  I  can  find." 

When  they  arrived,  in  this  leisurely  manner,  at  the 
head  of  Grosvenor  Place,  the  gates  of  the  park  were 
opening  and  the  bedraggled  company  of  night-walkers 
were  being  at  last  admitted  into  that  paradise  of  lawns. 
Challoner  and  his  companion  followed  the  movement, 
and  walked  for  awhile  in  silence  in  that  tatterdemalion 
crowd ;  but  as  one  after  another,  weary  with  the  night's 
patrolling  of  the  city  pavement,  sank  upon  the  benches 
or  wandered  into  separate  paths,  the  vast  extent  of  the 
park  had  soon  utterly  swallowed  up  the  last  of  these 
intruders;  and  the  pair  proceeded  on  their  way  alone  in 
the  grateful  quiet  of  the  morning. 

Presently  they  came  in  sight  of  a  bench,  standing 
very  open  on  a  mound  of  turf.  The  young  lady  looked 
about  her  with  relief. 

**Here,"  she  said,  "here  at  last  we  are  secure  from 
listeners.  Here,  then,  you  shall  learn  and  judge  my  his- 
tory. I  could  not  bear  that  we  should  part,  and  that 
you  should  still  suppose  your  kindness  squandered  upon 
one  who  was  unworthy." 

Thereupon  she  sat  down  upon  the  bench,  and  mo- 
tioning Challoner  to  take  a  place  immediately  beside  her, 
began  in  the  following  words,  and  with  the  greatest 
appearance  of  enjoyment,  to  narrate  the  story  of  her  life. 


STORY  OF  THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

My  father  was  a  native  of  England,  son  of  a  cadet  of 
a  great,  ancient  but  untitled  family ;  and  by  some  event, 
fault,  or  misfortune  he  was  driven  to  flee  from  the  land 
of  his  birth  and  to  lay  aside  the  name  of  his  ancestors. 
He  sought  the  States ;  and  instead  of  lingering  in  effem- 
inate cities,  pushed  at  once  into  the  far  west  with  an 
exploring  party  of  frontiersmen.  He  was  no  ordinary 
traveler;  for  he  was  not  only  brave  and  impetuous  by 
character,  but  learned  in  many  sciences,  and  above  all 
in  botany,  which  he  particularly  loved.  Thus  it  fell  that, 
before  many  months,  Fremont  himself,  the  nominal 
leader  of  the  troop,  courted  and  bowed  to  his  opinion. 

They  had  pushed,  as  I  have  said,  into  the  still  unknown 
regions  of  the  west.  For  some  time  they  followed  the 
track  of  Mormon  caravans,  guiding  themselves  in  that 
vast  and  melancholy  desert  by  the  skeletons  of  men  and 
animals.  Then  they  inclined  their  route  a  little  to  the 
north  and,  losing  even  these  dire  memorials,  came  into 
a  country  of  forbidding  stillness.  I  have  often  heard  my 
father  dwell  upon  the  features  of  that  ride :  rock,  clifif, 
and  barren  moor  alternated ;  the  streams  were  very  far 
between ;  and  neither  beast  nor  bird  disturbed  the  soli- 
tude.    On  the  fortieth  day  they  had  already  run  so  short 

22 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

of  food  that  it  was  judged  advisable  to  call  a  halt  and 
scatter  upon  all  sides  to  hunt.  A  great  fire  was  built, 
that  its  smoke  might  serve  to  rally  them ;  and  each  man 
of  the  party  mounted  and  struck  off  at  a  venture  into 
the  surrounding  desert. 

My  father  rode  for  many  hours  with  a  steep  range  of 
cliffs  upon  the  one  hand,  very  black  and  horrible ;  and 
upon  the  other  an  unwatered  vale  dotted  with  boulders 
like  the  site  of  some  subverted  city.  At  length  he  found 
the  slot  of  a  great  animal,  and  from  the  claw-marks  and 
the  hair  among  the  brush,  judged  that  he  was  on  the 
track  of  a  cinnamon  bear  of  most  unusual  size.  He 
quickened  the  pace  of  his  steed,  and  still  following  the 
quarry,  came  at  last  to  the  division  of  two  watersheds. 
On  the  far  side  the  country  was  exceedingly  intricate  and 
difficult,  heaped  with  boulders,  and  dotted  here  and 
there  with  a  few  pines,  which  seemed  to  indicate  the 
neighbourhood  of  water.  Here,  then,  he  picketed  his 
horse,  and  relying  on  his  trusty  rifle,  advanced  alone 
into  that  wilderness. 

Presently,  in  the  great  silence  that  reigned,  he  was 
aware  of  the  sound  of  running  water  to  his  right;  and 
leaning  in  that  direction,  was  rewarded  by  a  scene  of 
natural  wonder  and  human  pathos  strangely  intermixed. 
The  stream  ran  at  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  and  winding 
passage,  whose  wall-like  sides  of  rock  were  sometimes 
for  miles  together  unscalable  by  man.  The  water, 
when  the  stream  was  swelled  with  rains,  must  have 
filled  it  from  side  to  side;  the  sun's  rays  only  plumbed 
it  in  the  hour  of  noon ;  the  wind,  in  that  narrow  and 
damp  funnel,  blew  tempestuously.  And  yet,  in  the 
bottom  of  this  den,  immediately  below  my  father's  eyes 

23 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

as  he  leaned  over  the  margin  of  the  cliff,  a  party  of  some 
half  a  hundred  men,  women  and  children  lay  scattered 
uneasily  among  the  rocks.  They  lay  some  upon  their 
backs,  some  prone,  and  not  one  stirring;  their  upturned 
faces  seemed  all  of  an  extraordinary  paleness  and  emaci- 
ation; and  from  time  to  time,  above  the  washing  of  the 
stream,  a  faint  sound  of  moaning  mounted  to  my  fa- 
ther's ears. 

While  he  thus  looked,  an  old  man  got  staggering  to 
his  feet,  unwound  his  blanket,  and  laid  it,  with  great 
gentleness,  on  a  young  girl  who  sat  hard  by  propped 
against  a  rock.  The  girl  did  not  seem  to  be  conscious 
of  the  act ;  and  the  old  man,  after  having  looked  upon 
her  with  the  most  engaging  pity,  returned  to  his  former 
bed  and  lay  down  again  uncovered  on  the  turf.  But  the 
scene  had  not  passed  without  observation  even  in  that 
starving  camp.  From  the  very  outskirts  of  the  party,  a 
man  with  a  white  beard  and  seemingly  of  venerable 
years,  rose  upon  his  knees  and  came  crawling  stealthily 
among  the  sleepers  toward  the  girl;  and  judge  of  my 
father's  indignation,  when  he  beheld  this  cowardly  mis- 
creant strip  from  her  both  the  coverings  and  return  with 
them  to  his  original  position.  Here  he  lay  down  for  a 
while  below  his  spoils,  and,  as  my  father  imagined, 
feigned  to  be  asleep ;  but  presently  he  had  raised  him- 
self again  upon  one  elbow,  looked  with  sharp  scrutiny 
at  his  companions,  and  then  swiftly  carried  his  hand 
into  his  bosom  and  thence  to  his  mouth.  By  the  move- 
ment of  his  jaws  he  must  be  eating ;  in  that  camp  of 
famine  he  had  reserved  a  store  of  nourishment;  and 
while  his  companions  lay  in  the  stupor  of  approaching 
death,  secretly  restored  his  powers. 

24 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

My  father  was  so  incensed  at  what  he  saw  that  he 
raised  his  rifle;  and  but  for  an  accident,  he  has  often 
declared,  he  would  have  shot  the  fellow  dead  upon  the 
spot.  How  different  would  then  have  been  my  his- 
tory !  But  it  was  not  to  be :  even  as  he  raised  the  barrel, 
his  eye  lighted  on  the  bear,  as  it  crawled  along  a  ledge 
some  way  below  him ;  and  ceding  to  the  hunter's  in- 
stinct, it  was  at  the  brute,  not  at  the  man,  that  he  dis- 
charged his  piece.  The  bear  leaped  and  fell  into  a  pool 
of  the  river;  the  canon  re-echoed  the  report;  and  in  a 
moment  the  camp  was  afoot.  With  cries  that  were 
scarce  human,  stumbling,  falling  and  throwing  each 
other  down,  these  starving  people  rushed  upon  the 
quarry ;  and  before  my  father,  climbing  down  by  the 
ledge,  had  time  to  reach  the  level  of  the  stream,  many 
were  already  satisfying  their  hunger  on  the  raw  flesh, 
and  a  fire  was  being  built  by  the  more  dainty. 

His  arrival  was  for  some  time  unremarked.  He  stood 
in  the  midst  of  these  tottering  and  clay-faced  marion- 
ettes; he  was  surrounded  by  their  cries;  but  their 
whole  soul  was  fixed  on  the  dead  carcass ;  even  those 
who  were  too  weak  to  move,  lay,  half-turned  over, 
with  their  eyes  riveted  upon  the  bear;  and  my  father, 
seeing  himself  stand  as  though  invisible  in  the  thick  of 
this  dreary  hubbub,  was  seized  with  a  desire  to  weep. 
A  touch  upon  the  arm  restrained  him.  Turning  about 
he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  old  man  he  had 
so  nearly  killed;  and  yet,  at  the  second  glance,  recog- 
nized him  for  no  old  man  at  all,  but  one  in  the  full 
strength  of  his  years,  and  of  a  strong,  speaking  and  in- 
tellectual countenance,  stigmatized  by  weariness  and 
famine.     He  beckoned   my  father  near  the  cliff,  and 

25 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

there,  in  the  most  private  whisper,  begged  for  brandy. 
My  father  looked  at  him  with  scorn:  ''You  remind 
me,*'  he  said,  *'of  a  neglected  duty.  Here  is  my  flask; 
it  contains  enough,  I  trust,  to  revive  the  women  of  your 
party ;  and  I  will  begin  with  her  whom  I  saw  you  rob- 
bing of  her  blankets."  And  with  that,  not  heeding  his 
appeals,  my  father  turned  his  back  upon  the  egoist. 

The  girl  still  lay  reclined  against  the  rock ;  she  lay  too 
far  sunk  in  the  first  stage  of  death  to  have  observed  the 
bustle  round  her  couch ;  but  when  my  father  had  raised 
her  head,  put  the  flask  to  her  lips,  and  forced  or  aided 
her  to  swallow  some  drops  of  the  restorative,  she 
opened  her  languid  eyes  and  smiled  upon  him  faintly. 
Never  was  there  a  smile  of  more  touching  sweetness ; 
never  were  eyes  more  deeply  violet,  more  honestly  elo- 
quent of  the  soul !  I  speak  with  knowledge,  for  these 
were  the  same  eyes  that  smiled  upon  me  in  the  cradle. 
From  her  who  was  to  be  his  wife,  my  father,  still  jeal- 
ously watched  and  followed  by  the  man  with  the  gray 
beard,  carried  his  attentions  to  all  the  women  of  the 
party,  and  gave  the  last  drainings  of  his  flask  to  those 
among  the  men  who  seemed  in  the  most  need. 

"Is  there  none  left?  not  a  drop  for  me?"  said  the 
man  with  the  beard. 

"  Not  one  drop,"  replied  my  father;  "  and  if  you  find 
yourself  in  want,  let  me  counsel  you  to  put  your  hand 
into  the  pocket  of  your  coat." 

"Ah!"  cried  the  other,  "you  misjudge  me.  You 
think  me  one  who  clings  to  life  for  selfish  and  common- 
place considerations.  But  let  me  tell  you,  that  were 
all  this  caravan  to  perish,  the  world  would  but  be  light- 
ened of  a  weight.    These  are  but  human  insects,  puUu- 

26 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

fating,  thick  as  may-flies,  in  the  slums  of  European 
cities,  whom  I  myself  have  plucked  from  degradation 
and  misery,  from  the  dung-heap  and  gin-palace  door. 
And  you  compare  their  lives  with  mine!" 

**You  are  then  a  Mormon  missionary?"  asked  my 
father. 

'*  Oh ! "  cried  the  man,  with  a  strange  smile,  "a  Mor- 
mon missionary  if  you  will!  I  value  not  the  title. 
Were  I  no  more  than  that,  1  could  have  died  without  a 
murmur.  But  with  my  life  as  a  physician  is  bound  up 
the  knowledge  of  great  secrets  and  the  future  of  man. 
This  it  was,  when  we  missed  the  caravan,  tried  for  a 
short  cut  and  wandered  to  this  desolate  ravine,  that  ate 
into  my  soul  and,  in  five  days,  has  changed  my  beard 
from  ebony  to  silver." 

''And  you  are  a  physician, "  mused  my  father,  looking 
on  his  face,  ''bound  by  oath  to  succor  man  in  his  dis- 
tresses." 

"  Sir,"  returned  the  Mormon,  "  my  name  is  Grierson : 
you  will  hear  that  name  again ;  and  you  will  then  un- 
derstand that  my  duty  was  not  to  this  caravan  of  pau- 
pers, but  to  mankind  at  large." 

My  father  turned  to  the  remainder  of  the  party,  who 
were  now  sufficiently  revived  to  hear;  told  them  that  he 
would  set  off  at  once  to  bring  help  from  his  own  party ; 
"and,"  he  added,  "if  you  be  again  reduced  to  such  ex- 
tremities, look  round  you,  and  you  will  see  the  earth 
strewn  with  assistance.  Here,  for  instance,  growing 
on  the  under-side  of  fissures  in  this  cliff,  you  will  perceive 
a  yellow  moss.  Trust  me,  it  is  both  edible  and  excellent. " 

"Ha!"  said  Doctor  Grierson,  "you  know  botany!" 

"Not  I  alone,"  returned  my  father,  lowering  his 
27 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

voice;  "for  see  where  these  have  been  scraped  away. 
Am  I  right  ?    Was  that  your  secret  store  ?  " 

My  father's  comrades,  he  found,  when  he  returned  to 
the  signal-fire,  had  made  a  good  day's  hunting.  They 
were  thus  the  more  easily  persuaded  to  extend  assistance 
to  the  Mormon  caravan ;  and  the  next  day  beheld  both 
parties  on  the  march  for  the  frontiers  of  Utah.  The 
distance  to  be  traversed  was  not  great ;  but  the  nature 
of  the  country  and  the  difficulty  of  procuring  food,  ex- 
tended the  time  to  nearly  three  weeks ;  and  my  father 
had  thus  ample  leisure  to  know  and  appreciate  the  girl 
whom  he  had  succoured.  I  will  call  my  mother  Lucy. 
Her  family  name  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  mention ;  it  is 
one  you  would  know  well.  By  what  series  of  unde- 
served calamities  this  innocent  flower  of  maidenhood, 
lovely,  refined  by  education,  ennobled  by  the  finest 
taste,  was  thus  cast  among  the  horrors  of  a  Mormon 
caravan,  I  must  not  stay  to  tell  you.  Let  it  suffice,  that 
even  in  these  untoward  circumstances,  she  found  a  heart 
worthy  of  her  own.  The  ardour  of  attachment  which 
united  my  father  and  mother  was  perhaps  partly  due  to 
the  strange  manner  of  their  meeting ;  it  knew,  at  least,  no 
bounds  either  divine  or  human ;  my  father,  for  her  sake, 
determined  to  renounce  his  ambitions  and  abjure  his 
faith ;  and  a  week  had  not  yet  passed  upon  the  march 
before  he  had  resigned  from  his  party,  accepted  the 
Mormon  doctrine,  and  received  the  promise  of  my  mo- 
ther's hand  on  the  arrival  of  the  party  at  Salt  Lake. 

The  marriage  took  place,  and  I  was  its  only  offspring. 
My  father  prospered  exceedingly  in  his  affairs,  remained 
faithful  to  my  mother;  and  though  you  may  wonder  to 
hear  it,  I  believe  there  were  few  happier  homes  in  any 

28 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

country  than  that  in  which  I  saw  the  light  and  grew  to 
girlhood.  We  were,  indeed,  and  in  spite  of  all  our 
wealth,  avoided  as  heretics  and  half-believers  by  the 
more  precise  and  pious  of  the  faithful :  Young  himself, 
that  formidable  tyrant,  was  known  to  look  askance  upon 
my  father's  riches ;  but  of  this  I  had  no  guess.  I  dwelt, 
indeed,  under  the  Mormon  system,  with  perfect  inno- 
cence and  faith.  Some  of  our  friends  had  many 
wives ;  but  such  was  the  custom ;  and  why  should  it 
surprise  me  more  than  marriage  itself  ?  From  time  to 
time  one  of  our  rich  acquaintances  would  disappear,  his 
family  be  broken  up,  his  wives  and  houses  shared 
among  the  elders  of  the  church,  and  his  memory  only 
recalled  with  bated  breath  and  dreadful  headshakings. 
When  I  had  been  very  still  and  my  presence  perhaps 
was  forgotten,  some  such  topic  would  arise  among  my 
elders  by  the  evening  fire ;  1  would  see  them  draw  the 
closer  together  and  look  behind  them  with  scared  eyes ; 
and  I  might  gather  from  their  whisperings  how  some 
one,  rich,  honored,  healthy  and  in  the  prime  of  his  days, 
some  one,  perhaps,  who  had  taken  me  on  his  knees  a 
week  before,  had  in  one  hour  been  spirited  from  home 
and  family,  and  vanished  like  an  image  from  a  mirror, 
leaving  not  a  print  behind.  It  was  terrible,  indeed; 
but  so  was  death,  the  universal  law.  And  even  if  the 
talk  should  wax  still  bolder,  full  of  ominous  silences  and 
nods,  and  I  should  hear  named  in  a  whisper  the  De- 
stroying Angels,  how  was  a  child  to  understand  these 
mysteries  ?  I  heard  of  a  Destroying  Angel  as  some 
more  happy  child  might  hear  in  England  of  a  bishop  or 
a  rural  dean,  with  vague  respect  and  without  the  wish 
for  further  information.     Life  anywhere,  in  society  as  in 

29 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

nature,  rests  upon  dread  foundations;  I  beheld  safe 
roads,  a  garden  blooming  in  the  desert,  pious  people 
crowding  to  worship;  I  was  aware  of  my  parents* 
tenderness  and  all  the  harmless  luxuries  of  my  exist- 
ence ;  and  why  should  I  pry  beneath  this  honest  seem- 
ing surface  for  the  mysteries  on  which  it  stood  ? 

We  dwelt  originally  in  the  city ;  but  at  an  early  date 
we  moved  to  a  beautiful  house  in  a  green  dingle,  musi- 
cal with  splashing  water,  and  surrounded  on  almost 
every  side  by  twenty  miles  of  poisonous  and  rocky 
desert.  The  city  was  thirty  miles  away ;  there  was  but 
one  road,  which  went  no  further  than  my  father's  door; 
the  rest  were  bridle-tracks  impassable  in  winter;  and 
we  thus  dwelt  in  a  solitude  inconceivable  to  the  Eu- 
ropean. Our  only  neighbor  was  Dr.  Grierson.  To  my 
young  eyes,  after  the  hair-oiled,  chin-bearded  elders  of 
the  city,  and  the  ill-favoured  and  mentally  stunted  wo- 
men of  their  harems,  there  was  something  agreeable  in 
the  correct  manner,  the  fine  bearing,  the  thin  white  hair 
and  beard,  and  the  piercing  looks  of  the  old  doctor.  Yet, 
though  he  was  almost  our  only  visitor,  I  never  wholly 
overcame  a  sense  of  fear  in  his  presence ;  and  this  dis- 
quietude was  rather  fed  by  the  awful  solitude  in  which 
he  lived  and  the  obscurity  that  hung  about  his  occupa- 
tions. His  house  was  but  a  mile  or  two  from  ours,  but 
very  differently  placed.  It  stood  overlooking  the  road 
on  the  summit  of  a  steep  slope,  and  planted  close 
against  a  range  of  overhanging  bluffs.  Nature,  you 
would  say,  had  here  desired  to  imitate  the  works  of 
man ;  for  the  slope  was  even  like  the  glacis  of  a  fort, 
and  the  cliffs  of  a  constant  height,  like  the  ramparts 
of  a  city.     Not  even  spring  could  change  one  feature 

30 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

of  that  desolate  scene ;  and  the  windows  looked  down 
across  a  plain,  snowy  with  alkali,  to  ranges  of  cold 
stone  sierras  on  the  north.  Twice  or  thrice  I  remember 
passing  within  view  of  this  forbidding  residence;  and 
seeing  it  always  shuttered,  smokeless  and  deserted,  I 
remarked  to  my  parents  that  some  day  it  would  cer- 
tainly be  robbed. 

"Ah,  no,"  said  my  father,  "never  robbed;"  and  I 
observed  a  strange  conviction  in  his  tone. 

At  last,  and  not  long  before  the  blow  fell  on  my  un- 
happy family,  I  chanced  to  see  the  doctor's  house  in  a 
new  light.  My  father  was  ill;  my  mother  confined  to 
his  bedside ;  and  I  was  suffered  to  go,  under  the  charge 
of  our  driver,  to  the  lonely  house  some  twenty  miles 
away,  where  our  packages  were  left  for  us.  The  horse 
cast  a  shoe;  night  overtook  us  halfway  home;  and  it 
was  well  on  for  three  in  the  morning  when  the  driver 
and  I,  alone  in  a  light  wagon,  came  to  that  part  of  the 
road  which  ran  below  the  doctor's  house.  The  moon 
swam  clear;  the  cliffs  and  mountains  in  this  strong 
light  lay  utterly  deserted ;  but  the  house,  from  its  station 
on  the  top  of  the  long  slope  and  close  under  the  bluff, 
not  only  shone  abroad  from  every  window  like  a  place 
of  festival,  but  from  the  great  chimney  at  the  west  end 
poured  forth  a  coil  of  smoke  so  thick  and  so  volumi' 
nous,  that  it  hung  for  miles  along  the  windless  night  air, 
and  its  shadow  lay  far  abroad  in  the  moonlight  upon 
the  glittering  alkali.  As  we  continued  to  draw  near, 
besides,  a  regular  and  panting  throb  began  to  divide 
the  silence.  First  it  seemed  to  me  like  the  beating  of  a 
heart;  and  next  it  put  into  my  mind  the  thought  of 
some  giant  smothered  under  mountains  and  still,  with 

31 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

incalculable  effort,  fetching  breath.  I  had  heard  of  the 
railway,  though  I  had  not  seen  it,  and  I  turned  to  ask 
the  driver  if  this  resembled  it.  But  some  look  in  his 
eye,  some  pallor,  whether  of  fear  or  moonlight  on  his 
face,  caused  the  words  to  die  upon  my  lips.  We 
continued,  therefore,  to  advance  in  silence,  till  we  were 
close  below  the  lighted  house ;  when  suddenly,  with- 
out one  premonitory  rustle,  there  burst  forth  a  report  of 
such  a  bigness  that  it  shook  the  earth  and  set  the  echoes 
of  the  mountains  thundering  from  cliff  to  cliff.  A  pil- 
lar of  amber  flame  leaped  from  the  chimney-top  and 
fell  in  multitudes  of  sparks ;  and  at  the  same  time  the 
lights  in  the  windows  turned  for  one  instant  ruby  red 
and  then  .expired.  The  driver  had  checked  his  horse 
instinctively,  and  the  echoes  were  still  rumbling  further 
off  among  the  mountains,  when  there  broke  from  the 
now  darkened  interior  a  series  of  yells  —  whether  of 
man  or  woman  it  was  impossible  to  guess  —  the  door 
flew  open,  and  there  ran  forth  into  the  moonlight,  at 
the  top  of  the  long  slope,  a  figure  clad  in  white,  which 
began  to  dance  and  leap  and  throw  itself  down,  and 
roll  as  if  in  agony,  before  the  house.  I  could  no 
more  restrain  my  cries ;  the  driver  laid  his  lash  about 
the  horse's  flank,  and  we  fled  up  the  rough  track  at  the 
peril  of  our  lives;  and  did  not  draw  rein  till,  turning 
the  corner  of  the  mountain,  we  beheld  my  father's 
ranch  and  deep,  green  groves  and  gardens,  sleeping  in 
the  tranquil  light 

This  was  the  one  adventure  of  my  life,  until  my 
father  had  climbed  to  the  very  topmost  point  of  mate- 
rial prosperity,  and  I  myself  had  reached  the  age  of 
seventeen.     I  was  still  innocent  and  merry  like  a  child; 

32 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

tended  my  garden  or  ran  upon  the  hills  in  glad  sim- 
plicity; gave  not  a  thought  to  coquetry  or  to  material 
cares;  and  if  my  eye  rested  on  my  own  image  in  a 
mirror  or  some  sylvan  spring,  it  was  to  seek  and  recog- 
nize the  features  of  my  parents.  But  the  fears  which 
had  long  pressed  on  others  were  now  to  be  laid  on  my 
youth.  I  had  thrown  myself,  one  sultry,  cloudy  after- 
noon, on  a  divan;  the  windows  stood  open  on  the 
veranda,  where  my  mother  sat  with  her  embroidery ; 
^nd  when  fny  father  joined  her  from  the  garden,  their 
conversation,  clearly  audible  to  me,  was  of  so  startling 
a  nature  that  it  held  me  enthralled  where  I  lay. 

"The  blow  has  come,"  my  father  said,  after  a  long 
pause. 

I  could  hear  my  mother  start  and  turn,  but  in  words 
she  made  no  reply. 

"  Yes,"  continued  my  father,  "1  have  received  to-day 
a  list  of  all  that  I  possess ;  of  all,  I  say ;  of  what  I  have 
lent  privately  to  men  whose  lips  are  sealed  with  terror; 
of  what  I  have  buried  with  my  own  hand  on  the  bare 
mountain,  when  there  was  not  a  bird  in  heaven.  Does 
the  air,  then,  carry  secrets  }  Are  the  hills  of  glass  }  Do 
the  stones  we  tread  upon  preserve  the  footprint  to  be- 
tray us  ?  Oh,  Lucy,  Lucy,  that  we  should  have  come 
to  such  a  country!" 

'*  But  this,"  returned  my  mother,  'Ms  no  very  new  or 
very  threatening  event.  You  are  accused  of  some  con- 
cealment. You  will  pay  more  taxes  in  the  future,  and  be 
mulcted  in  a  fine.  It  is  disquieting,  indeed,  to  find  our 
acts  so  spied  upon,  and  the  most  private  known.  But 
is  this  new  ?  Have  we  not  long  feared  and  suspected 
«very  blade  of  grass  }  " 

3.? 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

*'Ay,  and  our  shadows !"  cried  my  father.  *'But 
all  this  is  nothing.  Here  is  the  letter  that  accompanied 
the  list." 

1  heard  my  mother  turn  the  pages ;  and  she  was  some 
time  silent. 

**  I  see,"  she  said  at  last;  and  then  with  the  tone  of 
one  reading:  ''  '  From  a  believer  so  largely  blessed  by 
Providence  with  this  world's  goods,'"  she  continued, 
'*  *the  Church  awaits  in  confidence  some  signal  mark 
of  piety. '  There  lies  the  sting.  Am  I  not  right  ?  These 
are  the  words  you  fear  ?  " 

"  These  are  the  words,"  replied  my  father.  *'  Lucy, 
you  remember  Priestley  ?  Two  days  before  he  disap- 
peared, he  carried  me  to  the  summit  of  an  isolated  butte ; 
we  could  see  around  us  for  ten  miles ;  sure,  if  in  any 
quarter  of  this  land  a  man  were  safe  from  spies,  it  were 
in  such  a  station ;  but  it  was  in  the  very  ague-fit  of  ter- 
ror that  he  told  me,  and  that  1  heard,  his  story.  He  had 
received  a  letter  such  as  this ;  and  he  submitted  to  my 
approval  an  answer  in  which  he  offered  to  resign  a  third 
of  his  possessions.  I  conjured  him,  as  he  valued  his 
life,  to  raise  his  offering ;  and,  before  we  parted,  he  had 
doubled  the  amount.  Well,  two  days  later  he  was 
gone  —  gone  from  the  chief  street  of  the  city  in  the  hour 
of  noon  — and  gone  forever.  O  God !  "  cried  my  father, 
**  by  what  art  do  they  thus  spirit  out  of  life  the  solid 
body?  What  death  do  they  command  that  leaves  no 
traces  .^  that  this  material  structure,  these  strong  arms, 
this  skeleton  that  can  resist  the  grave  for  centuries,  should 
be  thus  reft  in  a  moment  from  the  world  of  sense  ?  A  hor- 
ror dwells  in  that  thought  more  awful  than  mere  death." 

*'  Is  there  no  hope  in  Grierson  .?"    asked  my  mother. 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

"  Dismiss  the  thought,"  replied  my  father.  "  He  now 
knows  all  that  I  can  teach,  and  will  do  naught  to  save 
me.  His  power,  besides,  is  small,  his  own  danger  not 
improbably  more  imminent  than  mine;  for  he,  too, 
lives  apart;  he  leaves  his  wives  neglected  and  un- 
watched;  he  is  openly  cited  for  an  unbeliever;  and  un- 
less he  buys  security  at  a  more  awful  price  —  but  no ;  3 
will  not  believe  it;  I  have  no  love  for  him,  but  I  will  not 
believe  it." 

*'  Believe  what  ?  "  asks  my  mother;  and  then,  with  a 
change  of  note,  ''  But  oh,  what  matters  it  ?"  she  cried. 
"  Abimelech,  there  is  but  one  way  open:  we  must  fly !  " 

'Mt  is  in  vain,"  returned  my  father.  ''I  should  but 
involve  you  in  my  fate.  To  leave  this  land  is  hopeless : 
we  are  closed  in  it  as  men  are  closed  in  life;  and  there 
is  no  issue  but  the  grave." 

"We  can  but  die  then,"  replied  my  mother.  "Let 
us  at  least  die  together.  Let  not  Asenath^  and  myself 
survive  you.  Think  to  what  a  faith  we  should  be 
doomed!" 

My  father  was  unable  to  resist  her  tender  violence; 
and  though  1  could  see  he  nourished  not  one  spark  of 
hope,  he  consented  to  desert  his  whole  estate,  beyond 
some  hundreds  of  dollars  that  he  had  by  him  at  the 
moment,  and  to  flee  that  night,  which  promised  to  be 
dark  and  cloudy.  As  soon  as  the  servants  were  asleep, 
he  was  to  load  two  mules  with  provisions ;  two  others 
were  to  carry  my  mother  and  myself;  and,  striking 
through  the  mountains  by  an  unfrequented  trail,  we 
were  to  make  a  fair  stroke  for  liberty  and  life.  As  soon 
as  they  had  thus  decided,  1  showed  myself  at  the  window, 
*In  this  name  the  accent  falls  upon  the  e;  the  s  is  sibilant. 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and,  owning  that  I  had  heard  all,  assured  them  that  they 
could  rely  on  my  prudence  and  devotion.  I  had  no  fear, 
indeed,  but  to  show  myself  unworthy  of  my  birth ;  I 
held  my  life  in  my  hand  without  alarm ;  and  when  my 
father,  weeping  upon  my  neck,  had  blessed  Heaven  for 
the  courage  of  his  child,  it  was  with  a  sentiment  of  pride 
and  some  of  the  joy  that  warriors  take  in  war,  that  I  be- 
gan to  look  forward  to  the  perils  of  our  flight. 

Before  midnight,  under  an  obscure  and  starless  heaven,, 
we  had  left  far  behind  us  the  plantations  of  the  valley, 
and  were  mounting  a  certain  canyon  in  the  hills,  nar- 
row, encumbered  with  great  rocks,  and  echoing  with 
the  roar  of  a  tumultuous  torrent.  Cascade  after  cascade 
thundered  and  hung  up  its  flag  of  whiteness  in  the 
night,  or  fanned  our  faces  with  the  wet  wind  of  its  de- 
scent. The  trail  was  breakneck,  and  led  to  famine- 
guarded  deserts;  it  had  been  long  since  deserted  for 
more  practicable  routes ;  and  it  was  now  a  part  of  the 
world  untrod  from  year  to  year  by  human  footing. 
Judge  of  our  dismay,  when  turning  suddenly  an  angle 
of  the  cliffs,  we  found  a  bright  bonfire  blazing  by  itself 
under  an  impending  rock;  and  on  the  face  of  the  rock, 
drawn  very  rudely  with  charred  wood,  the  great  Open 
Eye  which  is  the  emblem  of  the  Mormon  faith.  We 
looked  upon  each  other  in  the  firelight;  my  mother 
broke  into  a  passion  of  tears ;  but  not  a  word  was  said. 
The  mules  were  turned  about;  and  leaving  that  great 
eye  to  guard  the  lonely  canyon,  we  retraced  our  steps 
in  silence.  Day  had  not  yet  broken  ere  we  were  once 
more  at  home,  condemned  beyond  reprieve. 

What  answer  my  father  sent  1  was  not  told ;  but  two 
days  later,  a  little  before  sundown,  I  saw  a  plain,  hon- 

36 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

est-Iooking  man  ride  slowly  up  the  road  in  a  great 
pother  of  dust.  He  was  clad  in  homespun,  with  a 
broad  straw  hat;  wore  a  patriarchal  beard;  and  had  an 
air  of  a  simple  rustic  farmer,  that  was,  in  my  eyes,  very 
reassuring.  He  was,  indeed,  a  very  honest  man  and 
pious  Mormon ;  with  no  liking  for  his  errand,  though 
neither  he  nor  any  one  in  Utah  dared  to  disobey;  and 
it  was  with  every  mark  of  diffidence  that  he  had  himself 
announced  as  Mr.  Aspinwall,  and  entered  the  room 
where  our  unhappy  family  was  gathered.  My  mother 
and  me  he  awkwardly  enough  dismissed ;  and  as  soon 
as  he  was  alone  with  my  father  laid  before  him  a  blank 
signature  of  President  Young's,  and  offered  him  a  choice 
of  services :  either  to  set  out  as  a  missionary  to  the  tribes 
about  the  White  Sea,  or  to  join  the  next  day,  with  a 
party  of  Destroying  Angels,  in  the  massacre  of  sixty 
German  immigrants.  The  last,  of  course,  my  father 
could  not  entertain,  and  the  first  he  regarded  as  a  pre- 
text :  even  if  he  could  consent  to  leave  his  wife  defence- 
less, and  to  collect  fresh  victims  for  the  tyranny  under 
which  he  was  himself  oppressed,  he  felt  sure  he  would 
never  be  suffered  to  return.  He  refused  both ;  and  As- 
pinwall, he  said,  betrayed  sincere  emotion,  part  religious, 
at  the  spectacle  of  such  disobedience,  but  part  human, 
in  pity  for  my  father  and  his  family.  He  besought  him 
to  reconsider  his  decision;  and  at  length,  finding  he 
could  not  prevail,  gave  him  till  the  moon  rose  to  settle 
his  affairs,  and  say  farewell  to  wife  and  daughter. 
''For,"  said  he,  ''then,  at  the  latest,  you  must  ride 
with  me." 

I  dare  not  dwell  upon  the  hours  that  followed :  they 
fled  all  too  fast ;  and  presently  the  moon  out-topped  the 

37 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

eastern  range,  and  my  father  and  Mr.  Aspinwall  set 
forth,  side  by  side,  on  their  nocturnal  journey.  My 
mother,  though  still  bearing  a  heroic  countenance,  had 
hastened  to  shut  herself  in  her  apartment,  thenceforward 
solitary ;  and  I,  alone  in  the  dark  house,  and  consumed 
by  grief  and  apprehension,  made  haste  to  saddle  my 
Indian  pony,  to  ride  up  to  the  corner  of  the  mountain, 
and  to  enjoy  one  farewell  sight  of  my  departing  father. 
The  two  men  had  set  forth  at  a  deliberate  pace;  nor 
was  I  long  behind  them,  when  I  reached  the  point  of 
view.  I  was  the  more  amazed  to  see  no  moving  crea- 
ture in  the  landscape.  The  moon,  as  the  saying  is, 
shone  bright  as  day;  and  nowhere,  under  the  whole 
arch  of  night,  was  there  a  growing  tree,  a  bush,  a  farm, 
a  patch  of  tillage,  or  any  evidence  of  man,  but  one. 
From  the  corner  where  I  stood,  a  rugged  bastion  of  the 
line  of  bluffs  concealed  the  doctor's  house ;  and  across 
the  top  of  that  projection  the  soft  night  wind  carried 
and  unwound  about  the  hills  a  coil  of  sable  smoke. 
What  fuel  could  produce  a  vapor  so  sluggish  to  dissi- 
pate in  that  dry  air,  or  what  furnace  pour  it  forth  so 
copiously,  1  was  unable  to  conceive;  but  I  knew  well 
enough  that  it  came  from  the  doctor's  chimney;  I  saw 
well  enough  that  my  father  had  already  disappeared; 
and  in  despite  of  reason,  I  connected  in  my  mind  the 
loss  of  that  dear  protector  with  the  ribbon  of  foul  smoke 
that  trailed  along  the  mountains. 

Days  passed,  and  still  my  mother  and  I  waited  in  vain 
for  news ;  a  week  went  by,  a  second  followed,  but  we 
heard  no  word  of  the  father  and  husband.  As  smoke 
dissipates,  as  the  image  glides  from  the  mirror,  so  in  the 
ten  or  twenty  minutes  that  I  had  spent  in  getting  my 

38 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

horse  and  following  upon  his  trail,  had  that  strong  and 
brave  man  vanished  out  of  life.  Hope,  if  any  hope  we 
had,  fled  with  every  hour;  the  worst  was  now  certain 
for  my  father,  the  worst  was  to  be  dreaded  for  his  de- 
fenceless family.  Without  weakness,  with  a  desperate 
calm  at  which  I  marvel  when  1  look  back  upon  it,  the 
widow  and  the  orphan  awaited  the  event.  On  the  last 
day  of  the  third  week  we  rose  in  the  morning  to  find 
ourselves  alone  in  the  house,  alone,  so  far  as  we  searched, 
on  the  estate ;  all  our  attendants,  with  one  accord,  had 
fled ;  and  as  we  knew  them  to  be  gratefully  devoted, 
we  drew  the  darkest  intimations  from  their  flight.  The 
day  passed,  indeed,  without  event ;  but  in  the  fall  of  the 
evening  we  were  called  at  last  into  the  veranda  by  the 
approaching  clink  of  horse's  hoofs. 

The  doctor,  mounted  on  an  Indian  pony,  rode  into 
the  garden,  dismounted,  and  saluted  us.  He  seemed 
much  more  bent,  and  his  hair  more  silvery  than  ever; 
but  his  demeanor  was  composed,  serious,  and  not  un- 
kind. 

'*  Madam,"  said  he,  **  I  am  come  upon  a  weighty  er- 
rand ;  and  I  would  have  you  recognize  it  as  an  effect  of 
kindness  in  the  President,  that  he  should  send  as  his 
ambassador  your  only  neighbor  and  your  husband's 
oldest  friend  in  Utah." 

**Sir,"  said  my  mother,  **I  have  but  one  concern, 
one  thought.  You  know  well  what  it  is.  Speak :  my 
husband  ?  " 

*' Madam,"  returned  the  doctor,  taking  a  chair  on  the 
veranda,  "if  you  were  a  silly  child,  my  position  would 
now  be  painfully  embarrassing.  You  are,  on  the  other 
hand,  a  woman  of  great  intelligence  and  fortitude ;  you 

39 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

have,  by  my  forethought,  been  allowed  three  weeks  ta 
draw  your  own  conclusions  and  to  accept  the  inevitable. 
Further  words  from  me  are,  I  conceive,  superfluous." 

My  mother  was  as  pale  as  death,  and  trembled  like 
a  reed ;  I  gave  her  my  hand,  and  she  kept  it  in  the  folds 
of  her  dress  and  wrung  it  till  I  could  have  cried  aloud. 
**Then,  sir,"  said  she  at  last,  '*you  speak  to  deaf  ears. 
If  this  be  indeed  so,  what  have  I  to  do  with  errands  ? 
what  do  I  ask  of  Heaven  but  to  die  ?  " 

''Come,"  said  the  doctor,  '*  command  yourself.  I 
bid  you  dismiss  all  thoughts  of  your  late  husband,  and 
bring  a  clear  mind  to  bear  upon  your  own  future  and 
the  fate  of  that  young  girl." 

**You    bid   me    dismiss "   began   my   mother. 

** Then  you  know! "  she  cried. 

'*l  know,"  replied  the  doctor. 

''You  know  ?  "  broke  out  the  poor  woman.  "  Then 
it  was  you  who  did  the  deed !  I  tear  off  the  mask,  and 
with  dread  and  loathing  see  you  as  you  are  —  you, 
whom  the  poor  fugitive  beholds  in  nightmares,  and 
awakes  raving  —  you,  the  Destroying  Angel ! " 

"Well,  madam,  and  what  then  ?"  returned  the  doc- 
tor. "  Have  not  my  fate  and  yours  been  similar  ?  Are 
we  not  both  immured  in  this  strong  prison  of  Utah  ? 
Have  you  not  tried  to  flee,  and  did  not  the  Open  Eye 
confront  you  in  the  canon  ?  Who  can  escape  the 
watch  of  that  unsleeping  eye  of  Utah  ?  Not  I,  at  least. 
Horrible  tasks  have,  indeed,  been  laid  upon  me;  and 
the  most  ungrateful  was  the  last;  but  had  I  refused  my 
offices,  would  that  have  spared  your  husband  ?  You 
know  well  it  would  not.  I,  too,  had  perished  along 
-with  him;  nor  would  I  have  been  able  to  alleviate  his 

49 


THE  DESTROYING   ANGEL 

last  moments,  nor  could  I  to-day  have  stood  between 
his  family  and  the  hand  of  Brigham  Young." 

**  Ah ! "  cried  1,  **  and  could  you  purchase  life  by  such 
concessions  ?  " 

"Young  lady,"  answered  the  doctor,  **I  both  could 
and  did ;  and  you  will  live  to  thank  me  for  that  base- 
ness. You  had  a  spirit,  Asenath,  that  it  pleases  me  to 
recognize.  But  we  waste  time.  Mr.  Fonblanque's 
estate  reverts,  as  you  doubtless  imagine,  to  the  church ; 
but  some  part  of  it  has  been  reserved  for  him  who  is  to 
marry  the  family;  and  that  person,  I  should  perhaps 
tell  you  without  delay,  is  no  other  than  myself" 

At  this  odious  proposal  my  mother  and  I  cried  out 
aloud,  and  clung  together  like  lost  souls. 

"It  is  as  I  supposed,"  resumed  the  doctor,  with  the 
same  measured  utterance.  "You  recoil  from  this  ar- 
rangement. Do  you  expect  me  to  convince  you  ?  You 
know  very  well  that  I  have  never  held  the  Mormon  view 
of  women.  Absorbed  in  the  most  arduous  studies,  I 
have  left  the  slatterns  whom  they  call  my  wives  to 
scratch  and  quarrel  among  themselves;  of  me,  they 
have  had  nothing  but  my  purse;  such  was  not  the 
union  I  desired,  even  if  I  had  the  leisure  to  pursue  it. 
No:  you  need  not,  madam,  and  my  old  friend — "  and 
here  the  doctor  rose  and  bowed  with  something  of  gal- 
lantry—  "you  need  not  apprehend  my  importunities. 
On  the  contrary,  I  am  rejoiced  to  read  in  you  a  Roman 
spirit ;  and  if  I  am  obliged  to  bid  you  follow  me  at  once, 
and  that  in  the  name,  not  of  my  wish,  but  of  my  or- 
ders, I  hope  it  will  be  found  that  we  are  of  a  common 
mind." 

So,  bidding  us  dress  for  the  road,  he  took  a  lamp  (fof 

41 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

the  night  had  now  fallen)  and  set  off  to  the  stable  to 
prepare  our  horses. 

**  What  does  it  mean  ?  —  what  will  become  of  us  ?  " 
I  cried. 

"Not  that,  at  least,"  replied  my  mother,  shuddering. 
"So  far  we  can  trust  him.  I  seem  to  read  among  his 
words  a  certain  tragic  promise.  Asenath,  if  I  leave  you, 
if  I  die,  you  will  not  forget  your  miserable  parents  ?" 

Thereupon  we  fell  to  cross-purposes:  I  beseeching 
her  to  explain  her  words ;  she  putting  me  by,  and  con- 
tinuing to  recommend  the  doctor  for  a  friend.  "The 
doctor!"  I  cried  at  last;  "the  man  who  killed  my 
father?" 

"Nay,"  said  she,  "let  us  be  just.  I  do  believe, 
before  Heaven,  he  played  the  friendliest  part.  And  he 
alone,  Asenath,  can  protect  you  in  this  land  of  death." 

At  this  the  doctor  returned,  leading  our  two  horses ; 
and  when  we  were  all  in  the  saddle,  he  bade  me  ride 
on  before,  as  he  had  matter  to  discuss  with  Mrs.  Fon- 
blanque.  They  came  at  a  foot's  pace,  eagerly  convers- 
ing in  a  whisper;  and  presently  after  the  moon  rose  and 
showed  them  looking  eagerly  into  each  other's  faces  as 
they  went,  my  mother  laying  her  hand  upon  the  doctor's 
arm,  and  the  doctor  himself,  against  his  usual  custom, 
making  vigorous  gestures  of  protest  or  asseveration. 

At  the  foot  of  the  track  which  ascended  the  talus  of 
the  mountain  to  his  door,  the  doctor  overtook  me  at  a  trot. 

"Here,"  he  said,  "we  shall  dismount;  and  as  your 
mother  prefers  to  be  alone,  you  and  I  shall  walk  together 
to  my  house." 

*'  Shall  I  see  her  again  ?  "  I  asked. 

"J  give  you  my  word,"  he  said,  and  helped  me  to 
42 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

alight.  * '  We  leave  the  horses  here, "  he  added.  * '  There 
are  no  thieves  in  this  stone  wilderness." 

The  track  mounted  gradually,  keeping  the  house  in 
view.  The  windows  were  once  more  bright;  the 
chimney  once  more  vomited  smoke ;  but  the  most  ab- 
solute silence  reigned,  and,  but  for  the  figure  of  my 
mother  very  slowly  following  in  our  wake,  I  felt  con- 
vinced that  there  was  no  human  soul  within  a  range  of 
miles.  At  the  thought,  I  looked  upon  the  doctor, 
gravely  walking  by  my  side,  with  bowed  shoulders, 
and  then  once  more  at  his  house,  lit  up  and  pouring 
smoke  like  some  industrious  factory.  And  then  my 
curiosity  broke  forth.  "In  heaven's  name,"  I  cried, 
**  what  do  you  make  in  this  inhuman  desert.?" 

He  looked  at  me  with  a  peculiar  smile,  and  answered 
with  an  evasion : 

**This  is  not  the  first  time,"  said  he,  **that  you  have 
seen  my  furnaces  alight.  One  morning,  in  the  small 
hours,  I  saw  you  driving  past;  a  delicate  experiment 
miscarried;  and  I  cannot  acquit  myself  of  having  startled 
either  your  driver  or  the  horse  that  drew  you." 

"What!"  cried  I,  beholding  again  in  fancy  the  an- 
tics of  the  figure,  "  could  that  be  you  ?  " 

"It  was  I,"  he  replied;  "  but  do  not  fancy  that  I  was 
mad.     I  was  in  agony.     I  had  been  scalded  cruelly." 

We  were  now  near  the  house,  which,  unlike  the  or- 
dinary houses  of  the  country,  was  built  of  hewn  stone 
and  very  solid.  Stone,  too,  was  its  foundation,  stone 
its  background.  Not  a  blade  of  grass  sprouted  among 
the  broken  mineral  about  the  walls,  not  a  flower  adorned 
the  windows.  Over  the  door,  by  way  of  sole  adorn- 
ment, the  Mormon  Eye  was  rudely  sculptured;  I  had 

43 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

been  brought  up  to  view  that  emblem  from  my  child- 
hood ;  but  since  the  night  of  our  escape,  it  had  acquired 
a  new  significance,  and  set  me  shrinking.  The  smoke 
rolled  voluminously  from  the  chimney  top,  its  edges 
ruddy  with  the  fire ;  and  from  the  far  corner  of  the  build- 
ing, near  the  ground,  angry  puffs  of  steam  shone  snow- 
white  in  the  moon  and  vanished. 

The  doctor  opened  the  door  and  paused  upon  the 
threshold.  *' You  ask  me  what  I  make  here,"  he  ob- 
served: "Two  things:  Life  and  Death."  And  he 
motioned  me  to  enter. 

"  I  shall  await  my  mother,"  said  I. 

"Child,"  he  replied,  "look  at  me:  am  I  not  old  and 
broken  ?  Of  us  two,  which  is  the  stronger,  the  young 
maiden  or  the  withered  man  ?" 

I  bowed,  and  passing  by  him,  entered  a  vestibule  or 
kitchen,  lighted  by  a  good  fire  and  a  shaded  reading- 
lamp.  It  was  furnished  only  with  a  dresser,  a  rude 
table,  and  some  wooden  benches ;  and  on  one  of  these 
the  doctor  motioned  me  to  take  a  seat;  and  passing  by 
another  door  into  the  interior  of  the  house,  he  left  me  to 
myself.  Presently  I  heard  the  jar  of  iron  from  the  far 
end  of  the  building ;  and  this  was  followed  by  the  same 
throbbing  noise  that  hM  startled  me  in  the  valley,  but  now 
so  near  at  hand  as  to  be  menacing  by  loudness,  and 
even  to  shake  the  house  with  every  recurrence  of  the 
stroke.  I  had  scarce  time  to  master  my  alarm  when 
the  doctor  returned,  and  almost  in  the  same  moment 
my  mother  appeared  upon  the  threshold.  But  how  am 
1  to  describe  to  you  the  peace  and  ravishment  of  that 
face  }  Years  seemed  to  have  passed  over  her  head  dur- 
ing that  brief  ride,  and  left  her  younger  and  fairer;  her 

44 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

eyes  shone,  her  smile  went  to  my  heart ;  she  seemed  no 
more  a  woman,  but  the  angel  of  ecstatic  tenderness.  I 
ran  to  her  in  a  kind  of  terror;  but  she  shrank  a  little 
back  and  laid  her  finger  on  her  lips,  with  something 
arch  and  yet  unearthly.  To  the  doctor,  on  the  contrary, 
she  reached  out  her  hand  as  to  a  friend  and  helper;  and 
so  strange  was  the  scene  that  I  forgot  to  be  offended. 

'*  Lucy,"  said  the  doctor,  *'  all  is  prepared.  Will  you 
go  alone,  or  shall  your  daughter  follow  us?" 

'*Let  Asenath  come,"  she  answered,  ''dear  Asenath! 
At  this  hour,  when  I  am  purified  of  fear  and  sorrow,  and 
already  survive  myself  and  my  affections,  it  is  for  your 
sake,  and  not  for  mine,  that  I  desire  her  presence.  Were 
she  shut  out,  dear  friend,  it  is  to  be  feared  she  might 
misjudge  your  kindness." 

"  Mother,"  I  cried  wildly,  "  mother,  what  is  this  ?" 

But  my  mother,  with  her  radiant  smile,  said  only 
"Hush!"  as  though  I  were  a  child  again,  and  tossing 
in  some  fever-fit;  and  the  doctor  bade  me  be  silent  and 
trouble  her  no  more.  "You  have  made  a  choice,  '  he 
continued,  addressing  my  mother,  '*that  has  often 
strangely  tempted  me.  The  two  extremes :  all,  or  else 
nothing;  never,  or  this  very  hour  upon  the  clock  — 
these  have  been  my  incongruous  desires.  But  to  ac- 
cept the  middle  term,  to  be  content  with  a  half-gift,  to 
flicker  awhile  and  to  burn  out  —  never  for  an  hour, 
never  since  I  was  born,  has  satisfied  the  appetite  of  my 
ambition."  He  looked  upon  my  mother  fixedly,  much 
of  admiration  and  some  touch  of  envy  in  his  eyes;  then, 
with  a  profound  sigh,  he  led  the  way  into  the  inner  room. 

It  was  very  long.  From  end  to  end  it  was  lit  up  by 
many  lamps,  which  by  the  changeful  colour  of  their  light, 

45 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

and  by  the  incessant  snapping  sounds  with  which  they 
burned,  I  have  since  divined  to  be  electric.  At  the  ex- 
treme end  an  open  door  gave  us  a  glimpse  into  what 
must  have  been  a  lean-to  shed  beside  the  chimney :  and 
this,  in  strong  contrast  to  the  room,  was  painted  with 
a  red  reverberation,  as  from  furnace-doors.  The  walls 
were  lined  with  books  and  glazed  cases,  the  tables 
crowded  with  the  implements  of  chemical  research; 
great  glass  accumulators  glittered  in  the  light;  and 
through  a  hole  in  the  gable  near  the  shed  door,  a  heavy 
driving  belt  entered  the  apartment  and  ran  overhead 
upon  steel  pulleys,  with  clumsy  activity  and  many 
ghostly  and  fluttering  sounds.  In  one  corner  I  perceived 
a  chair  resting  upon  crystal  feet,  and  curiously  wreathed 
with  wire.  To  this  my  mother  advanced  with  a  de- 
cisive swiftness. 

'*  Is  this  it  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  doctor  bowed  in  silence. 

**  Asenath,"  said  my  mother,  **in  this  sad  end  of  my 
life  I  have  found  one  helper.  Look  upon  him:  it  is 
Doctor  Grierson.  Be  not,  O  my  daughter,  be  not  un- 
grateful to  that  friend !  " 

She  sat  upon  the  chair,  and  took  in  her  hands  the 
globes  that  terminated  the  arms. 

''Am  I  right  ?  "  she  asked,  and  looked  upon  the  doc- 
tor with  such  a  radiancy  of  face  that  I  trembled  for  her 
reason.  Once  more  the  doctor  bowed,  but  this  time 
leaning  hard  against  the  wall.  He  must  have  touched 
a  spring.  The  least  shock  agitated  my  mother  where 
she  sat;  the  least  passing  jar  appeared  to  cross  her 
features;  and  she  sank  back  in  the  chair  like  one  re- 
signed to  weariness.     I  was  at  her  knees  that  moment; 

46 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

but  her  hands  fell  loosely  in  my  grasp ;  her  face,  still 
beatified  with  the  same  touching  smile,  sank  forward 
on  her  bosom ;  her  spirit  had  forever  fled. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  may  have  elapsed  before, 
raising  for  a  moment  my  tearful  face,  I  met  the  doctor's 
eyes.  They  rested  upon  mine  with  such  a  depth  of 
scrutiny,  pity,  and  interest,  that  even  from  the  freshness 
of  my  sorrow,  I  was  startled  into  attention. 

*' Enough,"  he  said,  "to  lamentation.  Your  mother 
went  to  death  as  to  a  bridal,  dying  where  her  husband 
died.  It  is  time,  Asenath,  to  think  of  the  survivors. 
Follow  me  to  the  next  room." 

1  followed  him,  like  a  person  in  a  dream ;  he  made 
me  sit  by  the  fire,  he  gave  me  wine  to  drink ;  and  then, 
pacing  the  stone  floor,  he  thus  began  to  address  me : 

"You  are  now,  my  child,  alone  in  the  world,  and 
under  the  immediate  watch  of  Brigham  Young.  It 
would  be  your  lot,  in  ordinary  circumstances,  to  become 
the  fiftieth  bride  of  some  ignoble  elder,  or  by  particular 
fortune,  as  fortune  is  counted  in  this  land,  to  find  favour 
in  the  eyes  of  the  president  himself.  Such  a  fate  for  a 
girl  like  you  were  worse  than  death ;  better  to  die  as  your 
mother  died  than  to  sink  daily  deeper  in  the  mire  of  this 
pit  of  woman's  degradation.  But  is  escape  conceiv- 
able ?  Your  father  tried ;  and  you  beheld  yourself  with 
what  security  his  jailers  acted,  and  how  a  dumb  draw- 
ing on  a  rock  was  counted  a  sufficient  sentry  over  the 
avenues  of  freedom.  Where  your  father  failed,  will  you 
be  wiser  or  more  fortunate  ?  or  are  you,  too,  helpless 
in  the  toils  ?  " 

I  had  followed  his  words  with  changing  emotion,  but 
now  1  believed  1  understood. 

47 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

"I  see,"  I  cried;  ''you  judge  me  rightly.  I  must  fol- 
low where  my  parents  led ;  and  oh !  I  am  not  only  will- 
ing, I  am  eager!" 

** No,"  replied  the  doctor,  ''not  death  for  you.  The 
flawed  vessel  we  may  break,  but  not  the  perfect.  No, 
your  mother  cherished  a  different  hope,  and  so  do  I.  I 
see,"  he  cried,  "  the  girl  develop  to  the  completed  wo- 
man, the  plan  reach  fulfilment,  the  promise — ay,  out- 
done! I  could  not  bear  to  arrest  so  lively,  so  comely  a 
process.  It  was  your  mother's  thought,"  he  added, 
with  a  change  of  tone,  "that  I  should  marry  you  my- 
self." !  fear  I  must  have  shown  a  perfect  horror  of 
aversion  from  this  fate,  for  he  made  haste  to  quiet  me. 
"Reassure  yourself,  Asenath,"  he  resumed.  "Old  as 
I  am,  I  have  not  forgotten  the  tumultuous  fancies  of 
youth.  I  have  passed  my  days,  indeed,  in  laboratories ; 
but  in  all  my  vigils  I  have  not  forgotten  the  tune  of  a 
young  pulse.  Age  asks  with  timidity  to  be  spared  in- 
tolerable pain ;  youth,  taking  fortune  by  the  beard,  de- 
mands joy  like  a  right.  These  things  I  have  not  for- 
gotten ;  none,  rather,  has  more  keenly  felt,  none  more 
jealously  considered  them ;  I  have  but  postponed  them 
to  their  day.  See,  then;  you  stand  without  support; 
the  only  friend  left  to  you,  this  old  investigator,  old  in 
cunning,  young  in  sympathy.  Answer  me  but  one  ques- 
tion. Are  you  free  from  the  entanglement  of  what  the 
world  calls  love?  Do  you  still  command  your  heart 
and  purposes  ?  or  are  you  fallen  in  some  bond-slavery 
of  the  eye  and  ear  ?  " 

I  answered  him  in  broken  words ;  my  heart,  I  think 
I  must  have  told  him,  lay  with  my  dead  parents. 

"  It  is  enough, "  he  said.     "  It  has  been  my  fate  to  be 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

called  on  often,  too  often,  for  those  services  of  which  we 
spoke  to-night ;  none  in  Utah  could  carry  them  so  well 
to  a  conclusion ;  hence  there  has  fallen  into  my  hands  a 
certain  share  of  influence  which  I  now  lay  at  your  serv- 
ice, partly  for  the  sake  of  my  dead  friends,  your  parents ; 
partly  for  the  interest  I  bear  you  in  your  own  right.  I 
shall  send  you  to  England,  to  the  great  city  of  London, 
there  to  await  the  bridegroom  I  have  selected.  He  shall 
be  a  son  of  mine,  a  young  man  suitable  in  age  and  not 
grossly  deficient  in  that  quality  of  beauty  that  your  years 
demand.  Since  your  heart  is  free,  you  may  well  pledge 
me  the  sole  promise  that  I  ask  in  return  for  much  ex- 
pense and  still  more  danger;  to  await  the  arrival  of  that 
bridegroom  with  the  delicacy  of  a  wife." 

I  sat  awhile  stunned.  The  doctor's  marriages,  I  re- 
membered to  have  heard,  had  been  unfruitful;  and  this 
added  perplexity  to  my  distress.  But  I  was  alone,  as 
he  had  said,  alone  in  that  dark  land ;  the  thought  of  es- 
cape, of  any  equal  marriage,  was  already  enough  to 
revive  in  me  some  dawn  of  hope ;  and  in  what  words  I 
know  not,  I  accepted  the  proposal. 

He  seemed  more  moved  by  my  consent  than  I  could 
reasonably  have  looked  for.  **  You  shall  see,"  he  cried ; 
*'you  shall  judge  for  yourself"  And  hurrying  to  the 
next  room  he  returned  with  a  small  portrait  somewhat 
coarsely  done  in  oils.  It  showed  a  man  in  the  dress  of 
nearly  forty  years  before,  young  indeed,  but  still  recog- 
nizable to  be  the  doctor.  "  Do  you  like  it  ?  "  he  asked. 
^'  That  is  myself  when  I  was  young.  My  —  my  boy 
will  be  like  that,  like  but  nobler;  with  such  health  as 
angels  might  condescend  to  envy ;  and  a  man  of  mind, 
Asenath,  of  commanding  mind.    That  should  be  a  man, 

49 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

I  think,  that  should  be  one  among  ten  thousand.  A 
man  like  that  —  one  to  combine  the  passions  of  youth 
with  the  restraint,  the  force,  the  dignity  of  age  —  one 
to  fill  all  the  parts  and  faculties,  one  to  be  man's  epitome 
—  say,  will  that  not  satisfy  the  needs  of  an  ambitious 
girl  ?  Say,  is  not  that  enough  ?  "  And  as  he  held  the 
picture  close  before  my  eyes,  his  hands  shook. 

I  told  him  briefly  I  would  ask  no  better,  for  I  was 
transpierced  with  this  display  of  fatherly  emotion ;  but 
even  as  I  said  the  words,  the  most  insolent  revolt  surged 
through  my  arteries.  I  held  him  in  horror,  him,  his 
portrait,  and  his  son;  and  had  there  been  any  choice 
but  death  or  a  Mormon  marriage,  1  declare  before  heaven 
I  had  embraced  it. 

*'lt  is  well,"  he  replied,  **and  I  had  rightly  counted 
on  your  spirit.  Eat,  then,  for  you  have  far  to  go."  So 
saying,  he  set  meat  before  me;  and  while  I  was  endeav- 
ouring to  obey,  he  left  the  room  and  returned  with  an 
armful  of  coarse  raiment.  *' There,"  said  he,  'Ms  your 
disguise.     I  leave  you  to  your  toilet." 

The  clothes  had  probably  belonged  to  a  somewhat 
lubberly  boy  of  fifteen ;  and  they  hung  about  me  like  a 
sack,  and  cruelly  hampered  my  movements.  But  what 
filled  me  with  uncontrollable  shudderings,  was  the  prob- 
lem of  their  origin  and  the  fate  of  the  lad  to  whom  they 
had  belonged.  I  had  scarcely  effected  the  exchange 
when  the  doctor  returned,  opened  a  back  window, 
helped  me  out  into  the  narrow  space  between  the  house 
and  the  overhanging  bluffs,  and  showed  me  a  ladder  of 
iron  footholds  mortised  in  the  rock.  **  Mount,"  he  said, 
swiftly.  * '  When  you  are  at  the  summit,  walk  so  far 
as  you  are  able,  in  the  shadow  of  the  smoke.     The 

50 


THE   DESTROYING   ANGEL 

smoke  will  bring  you,  sooner  or  later,  to  a  canon ;  fol- 
low that  down,  and  you  will  find  a  man  with  two 
horses.  Him  you  will  implicitly  obey.  And  remem- 
ber, silence  1  That  machinery  which  I  now  put  in 
motion  for  your  service,  may  by  one  word  be  turned 
against  you.     Go ;  heaven  prosper  you  ! " 

The  ascent  was  easy.  Arrived  at  the  top  of  the  cliff, 
I  saw  before  me  on  the  other  side  a  vast  and  gradual 
declivity  of  stone,  lying  bare  to  the  moon  and  the  sur- 
rounding mountains.  Nowhere  was  any  vantage  or 
concealment;  and  knowing  how  these  deserts  were 
beset  with  spies,  I  made  haste  to  veil  my  movements 
under  the  blowing  trail  of  smoke.  Sometimes  it  swam 
high,  rising  on  the  night  wind,  and  I  had  no  more  sub- 
stantial curtain  than  its  moon-thrown  shadow ;  some- 
times again  it  crawled  upon  the  earth,  and  I  would  walk 
in  it,  no  higher  than  to  my  shoulders,  like  some  moun- 
tain fog.  But  one  way  or  another,  the  smoke  of  that 
ill-omened  furnace  protected  the  first  step  of  my  es- 
cape, and  led  me  unobserved  to  the  canon. 

There,  sure  enough,  I  found  a  taciturn  and  sombre 
man  beside  a  pair  of  saddle-horses ;  and  thenceforward, 
all  night  long,  we  wandered  in  silence  by  the  most 
occult  and  dangerous  paths  among  the  mountains.  A 
little  before  the  dayspring  we  took  refuge  in  a  wet  and 
gusty  cavern  at  the  bottom  of  a  gorge ;  lay  there  all  day 
concealed;  and  the  next  night,  before  the  glow  had 
faded  out  of  the  west,  resumed  our  wanderings.  About 
noon  we  stopped  again,  in  a  lawn  upon  a  little  river, 
where  was  a  screen  of  bushes;  and  here  my  guide, 
handing  me  a  bundle  from  his  pack,  bade  me  change 
iny  dress  once  more.     The  bundle  contained  clothing 

5> 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

of  my  own,  taken  from  our  house,  with  such  necessa- 
ries as  a  comb  and  soap.  I  made  my  toilette  by  the 
mirror  of  a  quiet  pool;  and  as  1  was  so  doing  and  smil- 
ing with  some  complacency  to  see  myself  restored  to 
my  own  image,  the  mountains  rang  with  a  scream  of 
far  more  than  human  piercingness ;  and  while  I  still 
stood  astonished,  there  sprang  up  and  swiftly  increased 
a  storm  of  the  most  awful  and  earth-rending  sounds. 
Shall  I  own  to  you  that  I  fell  upon  my  face  and  shrieked? 
And  yet  this  was  but  the  overland  train  winding  among 
the  near  mountains :  the  very  means  of  my  salvation : 
the  strong  wings  that  were  to  carry  me  from  Utah ! 

When  I  was  dressed,  the  guide  gave  me  a  bag,  which 
contained,  he  said,  both  money  and  papers;  and  telling 
me  that  I  was  already  over  the  borders  in  the  territory 
of  Wyoming,  bade  me  follow  the  stream  until  I  reached 
the  railway  station,  half  a  mile  below.  **Here,"  he 
added,  "is  your  ticket  as  far  as  Council  Bluffs.  The 
East  express  will  pass  in  a  few  hours."  With  that,  he 
took  both  horses  and,  without  further  words  or  any 
salutation,  rode  off  by  the  way  that  we  had  come. 

Three  hours  afterwards,  I  was  seated  on  the  end  plat- 
form of  the  train  as  it  swept  eastward  through  the 
gorges  and  thundered  in  tunnels  of  the  mountain.  The 
change  of  scene,  the  sense  of  escape,  the  still  throbbing 
terror  of  pursuit  —  above  all,  the  astounding  magic  of 
my  new  conveyance,  kept  me  from  any  logical  or  mel- 
ancholy thought.  1  had  gone  to  the  doctor's  house  two 
nights  before  prepared  to  die,  prepared  for  worse  than 
death ;  what  had  passed,  terrible  although  it  was,  looked 
almost  bright  compared  to  my  anticipations ;  and  it  was 
not  till  I  had  slept  a  full  night  in  the  flying  palace  car, 

52 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

that  I  awoke  to  the  sense  of  my  irreparable  loss  and  to 
some  reasonable  alarm  about  the  future.  In  this  mood, 
I  examined  the  contents  of  the  bag.  It  was  well  sup- 
plied with  gold ;  it  contained  tickets  and  complete  di- 
rections for  my  journey  as  far  as  Liverpool,  and  a  long 
letter  from  the  doctor,  supplying  me  with  a  fictitious 
name  and  story,  recommending  the  most  guarded  si- 
lence, and  bidding  me  to  await  faithfully  the  coming  of 
his  son.  All  then  had  been  arranged  beforehand:  he 
had  counted  upon  my  consent,  and  what  was  tenfold 
worse,  upon  my  mother's  voluntary  death.  My  horror 
of  my  only  friend,  my  aversion  for  this  son  who  was  to 
marry  me,  my  revolt  against  the  whole  current  and  con- 
ditions of  my  life,  were  now  complete.  I  was  sitting 
stupefied  by  my  distress  and  helplessness,  when  to  my 
joy,  a  very  pleasant  lady  offered  me  her  conversation. 
1  clutched  at  the  relief;  and  I  was  soon  glibly  telling  her 
the  story  in  the  doctor's  letter:  how  I  was  a  Miss  Gould, 
of  Nevada  City,  going  to  England  to  an  uncle,  what 
money  I  had,  what  family,  my  age,  and  so  forth,  until 
I  had  exhausted  my  instructions,  and  as  the  lady  still 
continued  to  ply  me  with  questions,  began  to  embroider 
on  my  own  account.  This  soon  carried  one  of  my  in- 
experience beyond  her  depth;  and  I  had  already  re- 
marked a  shadow  on  the  lady's  face,  when  a  gentleman 
drew  near  and  very  civilly  addressed  me : 

**Miss  Gould,  I  believe.?"  said  he;  and  then,  excus- 
ing himself  to  the  lady  by  the  authority  of  my  guardian, 
drew  me  to  the  fore  platform  of  the  Pullman  car.  "  Miss 
Gould,"  he  said  in  my  ear,  "  is  it  possible  that  you  sup- 
pose yourself  in  safety  ?  Let  me  completely  undeceive 
you.     One  more  such  indiscretion  and  you  return  to 

53 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Utah.  And,  in  the  meanwhile,  if  this  woman  should 
again  address  you,  you  are  to  reply  with  these  words : 
*  Madam,  I  do  not  like  you,  and  1  will  be  obliged  if  you 
will  suffer  me  to  choose  my  own  associates.'  " 

Alas,  I  had  to  do  as  I  was  bid ;  this  lady,  to  whom  I 
already  felt  myself  drawn  with  the  strongest  cords  of 
sympathy,  I  dismissed  with  insult ;  and  thenceforward, 
through  all  that  day  I  sat  in  silence,  gazing  on  the  bare 
plains  and  swallowing  my  tears.  Let  that  suifice:  it 
was  the  pattern  of  my  journey.  Whether  on  the  train, 
at  the  hotels,  or  on  board  the  ocean  steamer,  I  never 
exchanged  a  friendly  word  with  any  fellow-traveller  but 
I  was  certain  to  be  interrupted.  In  every  place,  on  ev- 
ery side,  the  most  unlikely  persons,  man  or  woman, 
rich  or  poor,  became  protectors  to  forward  me  upon  my 
journey  or  spies  to  observe  and  regulate  my  conduct. 
Thus  1  crossed  the  States,  thus  passed  the  ocean,  the 
Mormon  Eye  still  following  my  movements ;  and  when 
at  length  a  cab  had  set  me  down  before  that  London 
lodging-house  from  which  you  saw  me  fleeing  this 
morning,  I  had  already  ceased  to  struggle  and  ceased  to 
hope. 

The  landlady,  like  every  one  else  through  all  that 
journey,  was  expecting  my  arrival.  A  fire  was  lighted 
in  my  room,  which  looked  upon  the  garden ;  there  were 
books  on  the  table,  clothes  in  the  drawers;  and  there 
(1  had  almost  said  with  contentment,  and  certainly  with 
resignation)  I  saw  month  follow  month  over  my  head. 
At  times  my  landlady  took  me  for  a  walk  or  an  excur- 
sion, but  she  would  never  suffer  me  to  leave  the  house 
alone;  and  I,  seeing  that  she  also  lived  under  the 
shadow  of  that  widespread  Mormon    terror,  felt  too 

54 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

much  pity  to  resist.  To  the  child  born  on  Mormon 
soil,  as  to  the  man  who  accepts  the  engagements  of  a 
secret  order,  no  escape  is  possible ;  so  I  had  clearly  read, 
and  I  was  thankful  even  for  this  respite.  Meanwhile,  I 
tried  honestly  to  prepare  my  mind  for  my  approaching 
nuptials.  The  day  drew  near  when  my  bridegroom 
was  to  visit  me,  and  gratitude  and  fear  alike  obliged 
me  to  consent.  A  son  of  Doctor  Grierson's,  be  he  what 
he  pleased,  must  still  be  young,  and  it  was  even  proba- 
ble he  should  be  handsome ;  on  more  than  that,  I  felt  I 
dared  not  reckon;  and  in  moulding  my  mind  toward 
consent  I  dwelt  the  more  carefully  on  these  physical  at- 
tractions which  I  felt  I  might  expect,  and  averted  my 
eyes  from  moral  or  intellectual  considerations.  We  have 
a  great  power  upon  our  spirits;  and  as  time  passed  I 
worked  myself  into  a  frame  of  acquiescence,  nay,  and  I 
began  to  grow  impatient  for  the  hour.  At  night  sleep 
forsook  me ;  I  sat  all  day  by  the  fire,  absorbed  in  dreams, 
conjuring  up  the  features  of  my  husband,  and  antici- 
pating in  fancy  the  touch  of  his  hand  and  the  sound  of 
his  voice.  In  the  dead  level  and  solitude  of  my  existence, 
this  was  the  one  eastern  window  and  the  one  door  of 
hope.  At  last,  I  had  so  cultivated  and  prepared  my 
will,  that  I  began  to  be  besieged  with  fears  upon  the 
other  side.  How  if  it  was  I  that  did  not  please  ?  How 
if  this  unseen  lover  should  turn  from  me  with  disaffec- 
tion ?  And  now  I  spent  hours  before  the  glass,  study- 
ing and  judging  my  attractions,  and  was  never  weary 
of  changing  my  dress  or  ordering  my  hair. 

When  the  day  came  I  was  long  about  my  toilette;  but 
at  last,  with  a  sort  of  hopeful  desperation,  I  had  to  own 
that  I  could  do  no  more,  and  must  now  stand  or  fall 

55 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

by  nature.  My  occupation  ended,  I  fell  a  prey  to  the 
most  sickening  impatience,  mingled  with  alarms ;  giv- 
ing ear  to  the  swelling  rumour  of  the  streets,  and  at  each 
change  of  sound  or  silence,  starting,  shrinking,  and 
colouring  to  the  brow.  Love  is  not  to  be  prepared,  I 
know,  without  some  knowledge  of  the  object;  and  yet, 
when  the  cab  at  last  rattled  to  the  door  and  I  heard  my 
visitor  mount  the  stairs,  such  was  the  tumult  of  hopes 
in  my  poor  bosom  that  love  itself  might  have  been 
proud  to  own  their  parentage.  The  door  opened,  and 
it  was  Doctor  Grierson  that  appeared.  1  believe  I  must 
have  screamed  aloud,  and  I  know,  at  least,  that  I  fell 
fainting  to  the  floor. 

When  I  came  to  myself  he  was  standing  over  me, 
counting  my  pulse.  *'I  have  startled  you,"  he  said. 
"  A  difficulty  unforeseen  —  the  impossibility  of  obtain- 
ing a  certain  drug  in  its  full  purity  —  has  forced  me  to 
resort  to  London  unprepared.  I  regret  that  I  should 
have  shown  myself  once  more  without  those  poor  at- 
tractions which  are  much,  perhaps,  to  you,  but  to  me 
are  no  more  considerable  than  rain  that  falls  into  the 
sea.  Youth  is  but  a  state,  as  passing  as  that  syncope 
from  which  you  are  but  just  awakened,  and,  if  there  be 
truth  in  science,  as  easy  to  recall ;  for  1  find,  Asenath, 
that  I  must  now  take  you  for  my  confidant.  Since  my 
first  years,  1  have  devoted  every  hour  and  act  of  life  to 
one  ambitious  task;  and  the  time  of  my  success  is  at 
hand.  In  these  new  countries,  where  I  was  so  long 
content  to  stay,  1  collected  indispensable  ingredients ;  1 
have  fortified  myself  on  every  side  from  the  possibility 
of  error;  what  was  a  dream  now  takes  the  substance  of 
reality;  and  when  I  offered  you  a  son  of  mine  I  did  so 

56 


THE   DESTROYING   ANGEL 

in  a  figure.  That  son  —  that  husband,  Asenath,  is  my- 
self—  not  as  you  now  behold  me,  but  restored  to  the 
first  energy  of  youth.  You  think  me  mad  ?  It  is  the 
customary  attitude  of  ignorance.  I  will  not  argue;  I 
will  leave  facts  to  speak.  When  you  behold  me  puri- 
fied, invigorated,  renewed,  restamped  in  the  original 
image  —  when  you  recognise  in  me  (what  I  shall  be) 
the  first  perfect  expression  of  the  powers  of  mankind  — 
I  shall  be  able  to  laugh  with  a  better  grace  at  your  pass- 
ing and  natural  incredulity.  To  what  can  you  aspire  — 
fame,  riches,  power,  the  charm  of. youth,  the  dear- 
bought  wisdom  of  age  —  that  1  shall  not  be  able  to 
afford  you  in  perfection  ?  Do  not  deceive  yourself  I 
already  excel  you  in  every  human  gift  but  one :  when 
that  gift  also  has  been  restored  to  me  you  will  recognise 
your  master." 

Hereupon,  consulting  his  watch,  he  told  me  he  must 
now  leave  me  to  myself ;  and  bidding  me  consult  rea- 
son, and  not  girlish  fancies,  he  withdrew.  I  had  not 
the  courage  to  move ;  the  night  fell  and  found  me  still 
where  he  had  laid  me  during  my  faint,  my  face  buried 
in  my  hands,  my  soul  drowned  in  the  darkest  appre- 
hensions. Late  in  the  evening  he  returned,  carrying  a 
candle,  and,  with  a  certain  irritable  tremor,  bade  me 
rise  and  sup.  *Ms  it  possible,"  he  added,  ''that  I  have 
been  deceived  in  your  courage  ?  A  cowardly  girl  is  no 
fit  mate  for  me." 

I  flung  myself  before  him  on  my  knees,  and  with 
floods  of  tears  besought  him  to  release  me  from  this  en- 
gagement, assuring  him  that  my  cowardice  was  abject, 
and  that  in  every  point  of  intellect  and  character  I  was 
his  hopeless  and  derisible  inferior. 

57 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

''Why,  certainly,"  he  replied.  **I  know  you  better 
than  yourself ;  and  I  am  well  enough  acquainted  with 
human  nature  to  understand  this  scene.  It  is  addressed 
to  me,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  ''in  my  character  of  the 
still  untransformed.  But  do  not  alarm  yourself  about 
the  future.  Let  me  but  attain  my  end,  and  not  you 
only,  Asenath,  but  every  woman  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
becomes  my  willing  slave." 

Thereupon  he  obliged  me  to  rise  and  eat ;  sat  down 
with  me  to  table ;  helped  and  entertained  me  with  the 
attentions  of  a  fashionable  host;  and  it  was  not  till  a 
late  hour,  that,  bidding  me  courteously  good-night,  he 
once  more  left  me  alone  to  my  misery. 

In  all  this  talk  of  an  elixir  and  the  restoration  of  his 
youth,  I  scarce  knew  from  which  hypothesis  I  should 
the  more  eagerly  recoil.  If  his  hopes  reposed  on  any 
base  of  fact,  if  indeed,  by  some  abhorrent  miracle,  he 
should  discard  his  age,  death  were  my  only  refuge  from 
that  most  unnatural,  that  most  ungodly  union.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  these  dreams  were  merely  lunatic,  the 
madness  of  a  life  waxed  suddenly  acute,  my  pity  would 
become  a  load  almost  as  heavy  to  bear  as  my  revolt 
against  the  marriage.  So  passed  the  night,  in  alterna- 
tions of  rebellion  and  despair,  of  hate  and  pity;  and 
with  the  next  morning  I  was  only  to  comprehend  more 
fully  my  enslaved  position.  For  though  he  appeared 
with  a  very  tranquil  countenance,  he  had  no  sooner  ob- 
served the  marks  of  grief  upon  my  brow  than  an  an- 
swering darkness  gathered  on  his  own.  "Asenath," 
he  said,  "you  owe  me  much  already;  with  one  finger 
I  still  hold  you  suspended  over  death ;  my  life  is  full  of 
labour  and  anxiety;  and  I  choose,"  said  he,  with  a  re- 

58 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

markable  accent  of  command,  *'  that  you  shall  greet  me 
with  a  pleasant  face."  He  never  needed  to  repeat  the 
recommendation ;  from  that  day  forward  I  was  always 
ready  to  receive  him  with  apparent  cheerfulness;  and 
he  rewarded  me  with  a  good  deal  of  his  company,  and 
almost  more  than  I  could  bear  of  his  confidence.  He 
had  set  up  a  laboratory  in  the  back  part  of  the  house, 
where  he  coiled  day  and  night  at  his  elixir,  and  he 
would  come  thence  to  visit  me  in  my  parlour;  now  with 
passing  humours  of  discouragement ;  now,  and  far  more 
often,  radiant  with  hope.  It  was  impossible  to  see  so 
much  of  him,  and  not  to  recognise  that  the  sands  of  his 
life  were  running  low;  and  yet  all  the  time  he  would 
be  laying  out  vast  fields  of  future,  and  planning,  with  all 
the  confidence  of  youth,  the  most  unbounded  schemes 
of  pleasure  and  ambition.  How  I  replied  1  know  not ; 
but  I  found  a  voice  and  words  to  answer,  even  while  I 
wept  and  raged  to  hear  him. 

A  week  ago  the  doctor  entered  my  room  with  the 
marks  of  great  exhilaration  contending  with  pitiful 
bodily  weakness.  '*  Asenath,"  said  he,  "I  have  now 
obtained  the  last  ingredient.  In  one  week  from  now 
the  perilous  moment  of  the  last  projection  will  draw 
nigh.  You  have  once  before  assisted,  although  uncon- 
sciously, at  the  failure  of  a  similar  experiment.  It  was 
the  elixir  which  so  terribly  exploded  one  night  when 
you  were  passing  my  house;  and  it  is  idle  to  deny  that 
the  conduct  of  so  delicate  a  process,  among  the  million 
jars  and  trepidations  of  so  great  a  city,  presents  a  cer- 
tain element  of  danger.  From  this  point  of  view,  I  can- 
not but  regret  the  perfect  stillness  of  my  house  among 
the  deserts ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  I  have  succeeded  in 

59 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

proving  that  the  singularly  unstable  equilibrium  of  the 
elixir,  at  the  moment  of  projection,  is  due  rather  to  the 
impurity  than  to  the  nature  of  the  ingredients ;  and  as 
all  are  now  of  an  equal  and  exquisite  nicety,  I  have  little 
fear  for  the  result.  In  a  week  then  from  to-day,  my 
dear  Asenath,  this  period  of  trial  will  be  ended."  And 
he  smiled  upon  me  in  a  manner  unusually  paternal. 

I  smiled  back  with  my  lips,  but  at  my  heart  there 
raged  the  blackest  and  most  unbridled  terror.  What  if 
he  failed.?  And  oh,  tenfold  worse!  what  if  he  suc- 
ceeded ?  What  detested  and  unnatural  changeling 
would  appear  to  claim  my  hand  ?  And  could  there,  I 
asked  myself  with  a  dreadful  sinking,  be  any  truth  in 
his  boasts  of  an  assured  victory  over  my  reluctance  ?  I 
knew  him,  indeed,  to  be  masterful,  to  lead  my  life  at  a 
sign.  Suppose,  then,  this  experiment  to  succeed ;  sup- 
pose him  to  return  to  me,  hideously  restored,  like  a 
vampire  in  a  legend ;  and  suppose  that,  by  some  devil- 
ish fascination  ...  My  head  turned;  all  former 
fears  deserted  me ;  and  I  felt  I  could  embrace  the  worst 
in  preference  to  this. 

My  mind  was  instantly  made  up.  The  doctor's  pres- 
ence in  London  was  justified  by  the  affairs  of  the  Mor- 
mon polity.  Often  in  our  conversation,  he  would  gloat 
over  the  details  of  that  great  organisation,  which  he 
feared  even  while  yet  he  wielded  it ;  and  would  remind 
me,  that  even  in  the  humming  labyrinth  of  London,  we 
were  still  visible  to  that  unsleeping  eye  in  Utah.  His 
visitors,  indeed,  who  were  of  every  sort,  from  the  mis- 
sionary to  the  Destroying  Angel,  and  seemed  to  belong 
to  every  rank  of  life,  had,  up  to  that  moment,  filled  me 
with  unmixed  repulsion  and  alarm.     I  knew  that  if  my 

60 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

secret  were  to  reach  the  ear  of  any  leader  my  fate  were 
sealed  beyond  redemption ;  and  yet  in  my  present  pass 
of  horror  and  despair,  it  was  to  these  very  men  that  I 
turned  for  help.  I  waylaid  upon  the  stair  one  of  the 
Mormon  missionaries,  a  man  of  a  low  class,  but  not 
inaccessible  to  pity ;  told  him  I  scarce  remember  what 
elaborate  fable  to  explain  my  application;  and  by  his 
intermediacy  entered  into  correspondence  with  my  fa- 
ther's family.  They  recognized  my  claim  for  help,  and 
on  this  very  day  I  was  to  begin  my  escape. 

Last  night  I  sat  up  fully  dressed,  awaiting  the  result 
of  the  doctor's  labours,  and  prepared  against  the  worst. 
The  nights  at  this  season  and  in  this  northern  latitude 
are  short;  and  I  had  soon  the  company  of  the  return- 
ing daylight.  The  silence  in  and  around  the  house  was 
only  broken  by  the  movements  of  the  doctor  in  the 
laboratory;  to  these  I  listened,  watch  in  hand,  await- 
ing the  hour  of  my  escape,  and  yet  consumed  by 
anxiety  about  the  strange  experiment  that  was  going 
forward  overhead.  Indeed,  now  that  I  was  conscious 
of  some  protection  for  myself,  my  sympathies  had 
turned  more  directly  to  the  doctor's  side;  I  caught  my- 
self even  praying  for  his  success ;  and  when  some  hours 
ago  a  low,  peculiar  cry  reached  my  ears  from  the  labo- 
ratory, I  could  no  longer  control  my  impatience,  but 
mounted  the  stairs  and  opened  the  door. 

The  doctor  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room ; 
in  his  hand  a  large,  round-bellied,  crystal  flask,  some 
three  parts  full  of  a  bright  amber-coloured  liquid;  on 
his  face  a  rapture  of  gratitude  and  joy  unspeakable.  As 
he  saw  me  he  raised  the  flask  at  arm's  length.  '*  Vic- 
tory ! "  he  cried.     '*  Victory,  Asenath ! "    And  then  — - 

6i 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

whether  the  flask  escaped  his  trembling  fingers,  or  whe- 
ther the  explosion  was  spontaneous,  I  cannot  tell  — 
enough  that  we  were  thrown,  I  against  the  door-post, 
the  doctor  into  the  corner  of  the  room;  enough  that 
we  were  shaken  to  the  soul  by  the  same  explosion 
that  must  have  startled  you  upon  the  street ;  and  that, 
in  the  brief  space  of  an  indistinguishable  instant,  there 
remained  nothing  of  the  labours  of  the  doctor's  lifetime 
but  a  few  shards  of  broken  crystal  and  those  volumi- 
nous and  ill-smelling  vapours  that  pursued  me  in  my 
flight. 


63 


THE  SaUIRE  OF  DAMES 

{Concluded) 

What  with  the  lady's  animated  manner  and  dramatic 
conduct  of  her  voice,  Challoner  had  thrilled  to  every 
incident  with  genuine  emotion.  His  fancy,  which  was 
not  perhaps  of  a  very  lively  character,  applauded  both 
the  matter  and  the  style ;  but  the  more  judicial  functions 
of  his  mind  refused  assent.  It  was  an  excellent  story ; 
and  it  might  be  true,  but  he  believed  it  was  not.  Miss 
Fonblanque  was  a  lady,  and  it  was  doubtless  possi- 
ble for  a  lady  to  wander  from  the  truth ;  but  how  was 
a  gentleman  to  tell  her  so  ?  His  spirits  for  some  time 
had  been  sinking,  but  they  now  fell  to  zero ;  and  long 
after  her  voice  had  died  away  he  still  sat  with  a  troubled 
and  averted  countenance,  and  could  find  no  form  of 
words  to  thank  her  for  her  narrative.  His  mind, 
indeed,  was  empty  of  every  thing  beyond  a  dull  long- 
ing for  escape.  From  this  pause,  which  grew  more 
embarrassing  with  every  second,  he  was  roused  by  the 
sudden  laughter  of  the  lady.  His  vanity  was  alarmed ; 
he  turned  and  faced  her;  their  eyes  met;  and  he  caught 
from  hers  a  spark  of  such  frank  merriment  as  put  him 
instantly  at  ease. 

'  *  You  certainly, "  he  said,  ' '  appear  to  bear  your  calam- 
ities with  excellent  spirit.  *' 

63 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

*'  Do  I  not  ?  "  she  cried,  and  fell  once  more  into  de- 
licious laughter.  But  from  this  access  she  more  speed- 
ily recovered.  "This  is  all  very  well,"  said  she,  nod- 
ding at  him  gravely,  ''but  I  am  still  in  a  most  distress- 
ing situation,  from  which,  if  you  deny  me  your  help, 
I  shall  find  it  difficult  indeed  to  free  myself." 

At  this  mention  of  help  Challoner  fell  back  to  his  orig- 
inal gloom. 

*'My  sympathies  are  much  engaged  with  you,"  he 
said,  *'and  I  should  be  delighted,  I  am  sure.  But  our 
position  is  most  unusual ;  and  circumstances  over  which 
I  have,  I  can  assure  you,  no  control,  deprive  me  of  the 
power  —  the  pleasure  —  unless,  indeed,"  he  added, 
somewhat  brightening  at  the  thought,  '*I  were  to  rec- 
ommend you  to  the  care  of  the  police  ?  " 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  and  looked  hard  into 
his  eyes ;  and  he  saw^  with  wonder  that,  for  the  first 
time  since  the  moment  of  their  meeting,  every  trace  of 
colour  had  faded  from  her  cheek. 

' '  Do  so, "  she  said,  ' '  and  —  weigh  my  words  well  — 
you  kill  me  as  certainly  as  with  a  knife." 

''God  bless  me! "  exclaimed  Challoner. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I  can  see  you  disbelieve  my  story 
and  make  light  of  the  perils  that  surround  me ;  but  who 
are  you  to  judge  ?  My  family  share  my  apprehensions ; 
they  help  me  in  secret;  and  you  saw  yourself  by  what 
an  emissary,  and  in  what  a  place,  they  have  chosen  to 
supply  me  with  the  funds  for  my  escape.  I  admit  that 
you  are  brave  and  clever  and  have  impressed  me  most 
favourably ;  but  how  are  you  to  prefer  your  opinion  be- 
fore that  of  my  uncle,  an  ex-minister  of  state,  a  man 
with  the  ear  of  the  Queen,  and  of  a  long  political  expe-. 

64 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

rience  ?  If  I  am  mad,  is  he  ?  And  you  must  allow  me, 
besides,  a  special  claim  upon  your  help.  Strange  as  you 
may  think  my  story,  you  know  that  much  of  it  is  true ; 
and  if  you  who  heard  the  explosion  and  saw  the  Mor- 
mon at  Victoria,  refuse  to  credit  and  assist  me,  to  whom 
am  I  to  turn  ?  " 

"  He  gave  you  money  then  ?"  asked  Challoner,  who 
had  been  dwelling  singly  on  that  fact. 

**  I  begin  to  interest  you,"  she  cried.  '*  But,  frankly, 
you  are  condemned  to  help  me.  If  the  service  I  had  to 
ask  of  you  were  serious,  were  suspicious,  were  even 
unusual,  I  should  say  no  more.  But  what  is  it  ?  To 
take  a  pleasure  trip  (for  which,  if  you  will  suffer  me,  I 
propose  to  pay)  and  to  carry  from  one  lady  to  another  a 
sum  of  money !    What  can  be  more  simple  ?  " 

" Is  the  sum,"  asked  Challoner,  "considerable ?" 

She  produced  a  packet  from  her  bosom ;  and  observing 
that  she  had  not  yet  found  time  to  make  the  count,  tore 
open  the  cover  and  spread  upon  her  knees  a  consider- 
able number  of  Bank  of  England  notes.  It  took  some 
time  to  make  the  reckoning,  for  the  notes  were  of  every 
degree  of  value ;  but  at  last,  and  counting  a  few  loose 
sovereigns,  she  made  out  the  sum  to  be  a  little  under 
710/.  sterling.  The  sight  of  so  much  money  worked  an 
immediate  revolution  in  the  mind  of  Challoner. 

"And  you  propose,  madam,"  he  cried,  "to  intrust 
that  money  to  a  perfect  stranger  ?  " 

"Ah!"  said  she  with  a  charming  smile,  "but  I  no 
longer  regard  you  as  a  stranger." 

"Madam,"  said  Challoner,  "  I  perceive  I  must  make 
you  a  confession.  Although  of  a  very  good  family  — 
through  my  mother,  indeed,  a  lineal  descendant  of  the 

65 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

patriot  Bruce  —  I  dare  not  conceal  from  you  that  my 
affairs  are  deeply,  very  deeply  involved.  I  am  in  debt, 
my  pockets  are  practically  empty ;  and,  in  short,  I  am 
fallen  to  that  state  when  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
would  prove  to  many  men  an  irresistible  temptation." 

**Doyou  not  see,"  returned  the  young  lady,  **that 
by  these  words  you  have  removed  my  last  hesitation  ? 
Take  them."  And  she  thrust  the  notes  into  the  young 
man's  hand. 

He  sat  so  long,  holding  them,  like  a  baby  at  the  font, 
that  Miss  Fonblanque  once  more  bubbled  into  laughter. 

''Pray,"  she  said,  ''hesitate  no  further;  put  them  in 
your  pocket;  and  to  relieve  our  position  of  a  shadow 
of  embarrassment,  tell  me  by  what  name  I  am  to  ad- 
dress my  knight-errant,  for  I  find  myself  reduced  to  the 
awkwardness  of  the  pronoun." 

Had  borrowing  been  in  question,  the  wisdom  of  our 
ancestors  had  come  lightly  to  the  young  man's  aid ;  but, 
upon  what  pretext  could  he  refuse  so  generous  a  trust  ? 
Upon  none,  he  saw,  that  was  not  unpardonably  wound- 
ing ;  and  the  bright  eyes  and  the  high  spirits  of  his  com- 
panion had  already  made  a  breach  in  the  rampart  of 
Challoner's  caution.  The  whole  thing,  he  reasoned, 
might  be  a  mere  mystification,  which  it  were  the  height 
of  solemn  folly  to  resent.  On  the  other  hand  the  ex- 
plosion, the  interview  at  the  public-house,  and  the  very 
money  in  his  hands,  seemed  to  prove  beyond  denial 
the  existence  of  some  serious  danger;  and  if  that  were 
so,  could  he  desert  her  ?  There  was  a  choice  of  risks : 
the  risk  of  behaving  with  extraordinary  incivility  and 
unhandsomeness  to  a  lady,  and  the  risk  of  going  on  a 
foors  errand.     The  story  seemed  false ;  but  then  the 

66 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

money  was  undeniable.  The  whole  circumstances  were 
questionable  and  obscure ;  but  the  lady  was  charming, 
and  had  the  speech  and  manners  of  society.  While  he 
still  hung  in  the  wind,  a  recollection  returned  upon  his 
mind  with  some  of  the  dignity  of  prophecy.  Had  he 
not  promised  Somerset  to  break  with  the  traditions  of 
the  commonplace,  and  to  accept  the  first  adventure 
offered  ?    Well,  here  was  the  adventure. 

He  thrust  the  money  into  his  pocket. 

"My  name  is  Challoner,"  said  he. 

** Mr.  Challoner,"  she  replied,  "you  have  come  very 
generously  to  my  aid  when  all  was  against  me.  Though 
I  am  myself  a  very  humble  person,  my  family  com- 
mands great  interest ;  and  I  do  not  think  you  will  repent 
this  handsome  action." 

Challoner  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  I  imagine  that,  perhaps,  a  consulship,"  she  added, 
her  eyes  dwelling  on  him  with  a  judicial  admiration, 
* '  a  consulship  in  some  great  town  or  capital  —  or  else 

But  we  waste  time ;  let  us  set  about  the  work  of 

my  delivery." 

She  took  his  arm  with  a  frank  confidence  that  went  to 
his  heart;  and  once  more  laying  by  all  serious  thoughts, 
she  entertained  him,  as  they  crossed  the  park,  with  her 
agreeable  gayety  of  mind.  Near  the  Marble  Arch  they 
found  a  hansom,  which  rapidly  conveyed  them  to  the 
terminus  at  Euston  Square ;  and  here,  in  the  hotel,  they 
sat  down  to  an  excellent  breakfast.  The  young  lady's 
first  step  was  to  call  for  writing  materials  and  write, 
upon  one  corner  of  the  table,  a  hasty  note;  still,  as  she 
did  so,  glancing  with  smiles  at  her  companion.  "Here, " 
said  she,  "  here  is  the  letter  which  will  introduce  you  to 

67 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

my  cousin. "  She  began  to  fold  the  paper.  '  *  My  cousin, 
although  I  have  never  seen  her,  has  the  character  of  a 
very  charming  woman  and  a  recognised  beauty;  of  that 
I  know  nothing,  but  at  least  she  has  been  very  kind  to 
me;  so  has  my  lord  her  father;  so  have  you  —  kinder 
than  all  —  kinder  than  I  can  bear  to  think  of. "  She  said 
this  with  unusual  emotion;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
sealed  the  envelope.  ''Ah!"  she  cried,  *'I  have  shut 
my  letter!  It  is  not  quite  courteous:  and  yet,  as  be- 
tween friends,  it  is  perhaps  better  so.  I  introduce  you, 
after  all,  into  a  family  secret ;  and  though  you  and  I  are 
already  old  comrades,  you  are  still  unknown  to  my 
uncle.  You  go,  then,  to  this  address,  Richard  Street, 
Glasgow;  go,  please,  as  soon  as  you  arrive;  and  give 
this  letter  with  your  own  hands  into  those  of  Miss  Fon- 
blanque,  for  that  is  the  name  by  which  she  is  to  pass. 
When  we  next  meet,  you  will  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  her,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  the  provocative. 

''Ah,"  said  Challoner,  almost  tenderly,  "she  can  be 
nothing  to  me." 

"You  do  not  know,"  replied  the  young  lady  with  a 
sigh.  "By  the  by,  I  had  forgotten  —  it  is  very  child- 
ish, and  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  mention  it  —  but  when 
you  see  Miss  Fonblanque,  you  will  have  to  make  your- 
self a  little  ridiculous ;  and  1  am  sure  the  part  in  no  way 
suits  you.  We  had  agreed  upon  a  watchword.  You 
will  have  to  address  an  earl's  daughter  in  these  words : 
"  Nigger,  nigger,  never  die  ; '  but  reassure  yourself,"  she 
added,  laughing,  "for  the  fair  patrician  will  at  once  fin- 
ish the  quotation.     Come  now,  say  your  lesson." 

"'Nigger,  nigger,  never  die,'"  repeated  Challoner, 
with  undisguised  reluctance. 

68 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

Miss  Fonblanque  went  into  fits  of  laughter.  **  Ex- 
cellent," said  she,  "it  will  be  the  most  humorous 
scene."    And  she  laughed  again. 

"  And  what  will  be  the  counterword  ?  "  asked  Chal- 
loner,  stiffly. 

**I  will  not  tell  you  till  the  last  moment,"  said  she; 
'*  for  I  perceive  you  are  growing  too  imperious." 

Breakfast  over,  she  accompanied  the  young  man  to 
the  platform,  bought  him  the  '* Graphic,"  the  '*  Athe- 
naeum," and  a  paper-cutter,  and  stood  on  the  step  con- 
versing till  the  whistle  sounded.  Then  she  put  her 
head  into  the  carriage.  '  Blackface  and  shining  eye  !  * 
she  whispered,  and  instantly  leaped  down  upon  the 
platform,  with  a  trill  of  gay  and  musical  laughter.  As 
the  train  steamed  out  of  the  great  arch  of  glass,  the 
sound  of  that  laughter  still  rang  in  the  young  man's 
ears. 

Challoner's  position  was  too  unusual  to  be  long  wel- 
come to  his  mind.  He  found  himself  projected  the 
whole  length  of  England,  on  a  mission  beset  with  ob- 
scure and  ridiculous  circumstances,  and  yet,  by  the 
trust  he  had  accepted,  irrevocably  bound  to  persevere. 
How  easy  it  appeared,  in  the  retrospect,  to  have  re- 
fused the  whole  proposal,  returned  the  money,  and 
gone  forth  again  upon  his  own  affairs,  a  free  and  happy 
man!  And  it  was  now  impossible:  the  enchantress 
who  had  held  him  with  her  eye  had  now  disappeared, 
taking  his  honour  in  pledge ;  and  as  she  had  failed  to 
leave  him  an  address,  he  was  denied  even  the  inglorious 
safety  of  retreat.  To  use  the  paper-knife,  or  even  to 
read  the  periodicals  with  which  she  had  presented  him, 
was  to  renew  the  bitterness  of  his  remorse;  and  as  he 

69 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

was  alone  in  the  compartment,  he  passed  the  day  star- 
ing at  the  landscape  in  impotent  repentance,  and  long 
before  he  was  landed  on  the  platform  of  St.  Enoch's,  had 
fallen  to  the  lowest  and  coldest  zones  of  self-contempt. 

As  he  was  hungry,  and  elegant  in  his  habits,  he  would 
have  preferred  to  dine  and  to  remove  the  stains  of  travel ; 
but  the  words  of  the  young  lady,  and  his  own  impatient 
eagerness,  would  suifer  no  delay.  In  the  late,  luminous 
and  lamp-starred  dusk  of  the  summer  evening,  he  ac- 
cordingly set  forward  with  brisk  steps. 

The  street  to  which  he  was  directed  had  first  seen  the 
day  in  the  character  of  a  row  of  small  suburban  villas  on 
a  hillside ;  but  the  extension  of  the  city  had,  long  since 
and  on  every  hand,  surrounded  it  with  miles  of  streets. 
From  the  top  of  the  hill  a  range  of  very  tall  buildings, 
densely  inhabited  by  the  very  poorest  classes  of  the  pop- 
ulation and  variegated  by  drying-poles  from  every  second 
window,  overplumbed  the  villas  and  their  little  gardens 
like  a  seaboard  cliflT.  But  still,  under  the  grime  of  years 
of  city  smoke,  these  antiquated  cottages,  with  their  Ve- 
netian blinds  and  rural  porticos,  retained  a  somewhat 
melancholy  savour  of  the  past. 

The  street,  when  Challoner  entered  it,  was  perfectly 
deserted.  From  hard  by,  indeed,  the  sound  of  a  thou- 
sand footfalls  filled  the  ear;  but  in  Richard  Street  itself 
there  was  neither  light  nor  sound  of  human  habitation. 
The  appearance  of  the  neighbourhood  weighed  heavily 
on  the  mind  of  the  young  man;  once  more,  as  in  the 
streets  of  London,  he  was  impressed  with  the  sense  of 
city  deserts ;  and  as  he  approached  the  number  indicated, 
and  somewhat  falteringly  rang  the  bell,  his  heart  sank 
within  him. 

70 


THE   DESTROYING   ANGEL 

The  bell  was  ancient,  like  the  house;  it  had  a  thin 
and  garrulous  note;  and  it  was  some  time  before  it 
ceased  to  sound  from  the  rear  quarters  of  the  building. 
Following  upon  this  an  inner  door  was  stealthily  opened, 
and  careful  and  catlike  steps  drew  near  along  the  hall. 
Challoner,  supposing  he  was  to  be  instantly  admitted, 
produced  his  letter  and,  as  well  as  he  was  able,  prepared 
a  smiling  face.  To  his  indescribable  surprise,  however, 
the  footsteps  ceased,  and  then,  after  a  pause  and  with 
the  like  stealthiness,  withdrew  once  more,  and  died 
away  in  the  interior  of  the  house.  A  second  time  the 
young  man  rang  violently  at  the  bell ;  a  second  time,  to 
his  keen  hearkening,  a  certain  bustle  of  discreet  footing 
moved  upon  the  hollow  boards  of  the  old  villa;  and 
again  the  faint-hearted  garrison  only  drew  near  to  re- 
treat. The  cup  of  the  visitor's  endurance  was  now  full 
to  overflowing;  and,  committing  the  whole  family  of 
Fonblanque  to  every  mood  and  shade  of  condemnation, 
he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  redescended  the  steps. 
Perhaps  the  mover  in  the  house  was  watching  from  a 
window,  and  plucked  up  courage  at  the  sight  of  this 
desistance;  or  perhaps,  where  he  lurked  trembling  in 
the  back  part  of  the  villa,  reason  in  its  own  right  had 
conquered  his  alarms.  Challoner,  at  least,  had  scarce 
set  foot  upon  the  pavement  when  he  was  arrested  by 
the  sound  of  the  withdrawal  of  an  inner  bolt;  one  fol- 
lowed another  rattling  in  their  sockets ;  the  key  turned 
harshly  in  the  lock;  the  door  opened;  and  there  ap- 
peared upon  the  threshold  a  man  of  a  very  stalwart  figure 
in  his  shirt  sleeves.  He  was  a  person  neither  of  great 
manly  beauty  nor  of  a  refined  exterior;  he  was  not  the 
man  in  ordinary  moods,  to  attract  the  eyes  of  the  ob- 

7' 


MORE   NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

server;  but  as  he  now  stood  in  the  doorway,  he  was 
marked  so  legibly  with  the  extreme  passion  of  terror 
that  Challoner  stood  wonder-struck.  For  a  fraction  of 
a  minute  they  gazed  upon  each  other  in  silence;  and 
then,  the  man  of  the  house,  with  ashen  lips  and  gasping 
voice,  inquired  the  business  of  his  visitor.  Challoner 
replied,  in  tones  from  which  he  strove  to  banish  his 
surprise,  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter  to  a  certain 
Miss  Fonblanque.  At  this  name,  as  at  a  talisman,  the 
man  fell  back  and  impatiently  invited  him  to  enter;  and 
no  sooner  had  the  adventurer  crossed  the  threshold,  than 
the  door  was  closed  behind  him  and  his  retreat  cut  off. 
It  was  already  long  past  eight  at  night;  and  though 
the  late  twilight  of  the  north  still  lingered  in  the  streets, 
in  the  passage  it  was  already  groping  dark.  The  man 
led  Challoner  directly  to  a  parlour  looking  on  the  garden 
to  the  back.  Here  he  had  apparently  been  supping ;  for 
by  the  light  of  a  tallow  dip,  the  table  was  seen  to  be 
covered  with  a  napkin,  and  set  out  with  a  quart  of  bot- 
tled ale  and  the  heel  of  a  Gouda  cheese.  The  room,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  furnished  with  faded  solidity,  and 
the  walls  were  lined  with  scholarly  and  costly  volumes 
in  glazed  cases.  The  house  must  have  been  taken  fur- 
nished ;  for  it  had  no  congruity  with  this  man  of  the 
shirt  sleeves  and  the  mean  supper.  As  for  the  earl's 
daughter,  the  earl  and  the  visionary  consulships  in  foreign 
cities,  they  had  long  ago  begun  to  fade  in  Challoner's 
imagination.  Like  Doctor  Grierson  and  the  Mormon 
angels,  they  were  plainly  woven  of  the  stuff  of  dreams. 
Not  an  illusion  remained  to  the  knight-errant;  not  a 
hope  was  left  him,  but  to  be  speedily  relieved  from  this 
disreputable  business. 

72 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

The  man  had  continued  to  regard  his  visitor  with  un- 
disguised anxiety,  and  began  once  more  to  press  him 
for  his  errand. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Challoner,  '*  simply  to  do  a  service 
between  two  ladies ;  and  I  must  ask  you,  without  fur- 
ther delay,  to  summon  Miss  Fonblanque,  into  whose 
hands  alone  I  am  authorized  to  deliver  the  letter  that  I 
bear." 

A  growing  wonder  began  to  mingle  on  the  man's 
face  with  the  lines  of  solicitude.  **I  am  Miss  Fon- 
blanque," he  said;  and  then,  perceiving  the  effect  of 
this  communication,  "Good  God! "  he  cried,  **  what  are 
you  staring  at  ?    I  tell  you,  I  am  Miss  Fonblanque." 

Seeing  the  speaker  wore  a  chin-beard  of  considerable 
length,  and  the  remainder  of  his  face  was  blue  with 
shaving,  Challoner  could  only  suppose  himself  the  sub- 
ject of  a  jest.  He  was  no  longer  under  the  spell  of  the 
young  lady's  presence ;  and  with  men,  and  above  all  with 
his  inferiors,  he  was  capable  of  some  display  of  spirit. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  pretty  roundly,  "I  have  put  myself  to 
great  inconvenience  for  persons  of  whom  I  know  too 
little,  and  1  begin  to  be  weary  of  the  business.  Either 
you  shall  immediately  summon  Miss  Fonblanque,  or  I 
leave  this  house  and  put  myself  under  the  direction  of 
the  police." 

"This  is  horrible!  "  exclaimed  the  man.  "I  declare 
before  Heaven  I  am  the  person  meant,  but  how  shall  I 
convince  you?  It  must  have  been  Clara,  I  perceive, 
that  sent  you  on  this  errand — a  mad  woman,  who  jests 
with  the  most  deadly  interests ;  and  here  we  are  inca- 
pable, perhaps,  of  an  agreement,  and  Heaven  knows 
what  may  depend  on  our  delay! " 

73 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

He  Spoke  with  a  really  startling  earnestness ;  and  at 
the  same  time  there  flashed  upon  the  mind  of  Challoner 
the  ridiculous  jingle  which  was  to  serve  as  a  pass-word. 
"This  may,  perhaps,  assist  you,"  he  said;  and  then, 
with  some  embarrassment:  '''Nigger,  nigger,  never 
die.'" 

A  light  of  relief  broke  upon  the  troubled  countenance 
of  the  man  with  the  chin-beard.  "'Black  face  and 
shining  eye' — give  me  the  letter,"  he  panted  in  one 
gasp. 

"Well,"  said  Challoner,  though  still  with  some  re- 
luctance, "I  suppose  I  must  regard  you  as  the  proper 
recipient;  and  though  I  may  justly  complain  of  the 
spirit  in  which  1  have  been  treated,  I  am  only  too  glad 
to  be  done  with  all  responsibility.  Here  it  is,"  and  he 
produced  the  envelope. 

The  man  leaped  upon  it  like  a  beast,  and  with  hands 
that  trembled  in  a  manner  painful  to  behold,  tore  it  open 
and  unfolded  the  letter.  As  he  read,  terror  seemed  to 
mount  upon  him  to  the  pitch  of  nightmare.  He  struck 
one  hand  upon  his  brow,  while  with  the  other,  as  if 
unconsciously,  he  crumpled  the  paper  to  a  ball.  "My 
gracious  powers ! "  he  cried ;  and  then,  dashing  to  the 
window,  which  stood  open  on  the  garden,  he  clapped 
forth  his  head  and  shoulders,  and  whistled  long  and 
shrill.  Challoner  fell  back  into  a  corner,  and  resolutely 
grasping  his  staff,  prepared  for  the  most  desperate 
events;  but  the  thoughts  of  the  man  with  the  chin- 
beard  were  far  removed  from  violence.  Turning  again 
into  the  room,  and  once  more  beholding  his  visitor, 
whom  he  appeared  to  have  forgotten,  he  fairly  danced 
with  trepidation.    ' '  Impossible ! "  he  cried.    ' '  Oh,  quite 

74 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

impossible!  O  Lord,  I  have  lost  my  head."  And  then, 
once  more  striking  his  hand  upon  his  brow,  **The 
money! "  he  exclaimed.     ''Give  me  the  money." 

** My  good  friend,"  replied  Challoner,  "this  is  a  very 
painful  exhibition ;  and  until  I  see  you  reasonably  mas- 
ter of  yourself,  I  decline  to  proceed  with  any  business. " 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  the  man.  "I  am  of  a 
very  nervous  habit;  a  long  course  of  the  dumb  ague 
has  undermined  my  constitution.  But  I  know  you  have 
money;  it  may  be  still  the  saving  of  me;  and  oh,  dear 
young  gentleman,  in  pity's  name  be  expeditious !  " 

Challoner,  sincerely  uneasy  as  he  was,  could  scarce 
refrain  from  laughter;  but  he  was  himself  in  a  hurry  to 
be  gone,  and  without  more  delay  produced  the  money. 
"You  will  find  the  sum,  I  trust,  correct,"  he  observed; 
"and  let  me  ask  you  to  give  me  a  receipt." 

But  the  man  heeded  him  not.  He  seized  the  money, 
and  disregarding  the  sovereigns  that  rolled  loose  upon 
the  floor,  thrust  the  bundle  of  notes  into  his  pocket. 

"A  receipt,"  repeated  Challoner  with  some  asperity, 
"I  insist  on  a  receipt." 

"Receipt?"  repeated  the  man  a  little  wildly.  "A 
receipt?    Immediately!    Await  me  here. " 

Challoner,  in  reply,  begged  the  gentleman  to  lose  no 
unnecessary  time,  as  he  was  himself  desirous  of  catch- 
ing a  particular  train. 

"Ah,  by  God,  and  so  am  I!"  exclaimed  the  man 
with  the  chin-beard;  and  with  that  he  was  gone  out 
of  the  room,  and  had  rattled  up  stairs,  four  at  a  time, 
to  the  upper  story  of  the  villa. 

"This  is  certainly  a  most  amazing  business,"  thought 
Challoner,   "certainly  a  most  disquieting  affair;  and  I 

75 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

cannot  conceal  from  myself  that  I  have  become  mixed 
up  with  either  lunatics  or  malefactors.  I  may  truly 
thank  my  stars  that  1  am  so  nearly  and  so  creditably 
done  with  it."  Thus  thinking  and  perhaps  remember- 
ing the  episode  of  the  whistle,  he  turned  to  the  open 
window.  The  garden  was  still  faintly  clear;  he  could 
distinguish  the  stairs  and  terraces  with  which  the  small 
domain  had  been  adorned  by  former  owners,  and  the 
blackened  bushes  and  dead  trees  that  had  once  afforded 
shelter  to  the  country  birds;  beyond  these  he  saw  the 
strong  retaining  wall,  some  thirty  feet  in  height,  which 
inclosed  the  garden  to  the  back ;  and  again  above  that, 
the  pile  of  dingy  buildings  rearing  its  frontage  high  into 
the  night.  A  peculiar  object  lying  stretched  upon  the 
lawn  for  some  time  baffled  his  eyesight ;  but  at  length 
he  made  it  out  to  be  a  long  ladder,  or  series  of  ladders 
bound  into  one ;  he  was  still  wondering  of  what  service 
so  great  an  instrument  could  be  in  such  a  scant  inclo- 
sure,  when  he  was  recalled  to  himself  by  the  noise  of 
some  one  running  violently  down  the  stairs.  This  was 
followed  by  the  sudden,  clamorous  banging  of  the  house 
door ;  and  that  again,  by  rapid  and  retreating  footsteps 
in  the  street. 

Challoner  sprang  into  the  passage.  He  ran  from  room 
to  room,  up  stairs  and  down  stairs;  and  in  that  old 
dingy  and  worm-eaten  house,  he  found  himself  alone. 
Only  in  one  apartment  looking  to  the  front,  were  there 
any  traces  of  the  late  inhabitant :  a  bed  that  had  been 
recently  slept  in  and  not  made,  a  chest  of  drawers  dis- 
ordered by  a  hasty  search,  and  on  the  floor  a  roll  of 
crumpled  paper.  This  he  picked  up.  The  light  in  this 
upper  story  looking  to  the  front  was  considerably  brighter 

76 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

than  in  the  parlour;  and  he  was  able  to  make  out  that 
the  paper  bore  the  mark  of  the  hotel  at  Euston,  and 
even,  by  peering  closely,  to  decipher  the  following  lines 
in  a  very  elegant  and  careful  female  hand : 

"  Dear  M'Guire, —  It  is  certain  your  retreat  is  known.  We  have 
just  had  another  failure,  clockwork  thirty  hours  too  soon,  with  the 
usual  humiliating  result.  Zero  is  quite  disheartened.  We  are  all  scat- 
tered, and  I  could  find  no  one  but  the  solemn  ass  who  brings  you  this 
and  the  money.     I  would  love  to  see  your  meeting. — Ever  yours, 

"Shining  Eye." 

Challoner  was  stricken  to  the  heart.  He  perceived  by 
what  facility,  by  what  unmanly  fear  of  ridicule,  he  had 
been  brought  down  to  be  the  gull  of  this  intriguer;  and 
his  wrath  flowed  forth  in  almost  equal  measure  against 
himself,  against  the  woman,  and  against  Somerset, 
whose  idle  counsels  had  impelled  him  to  embark  on  that 
adventure.  At  the  same  time  a  great  and  troubled  curi- 
osity, and  a  certain  chill  of  fear,  possessed  his  spirit. 
The  conduct  of  the  man  with  the  chin-beard,  the  terms 
of  the  letter,  and  the  explosion  of  the  early  morning, 
fitted  together  like  parts  in  some  obscure  and  mischiev- 
ous imbroglio.  Evil  was  certainly  afoot ;  evil,  secrecy, 
terror  and  falsehood  were  the  conditions  and  the  pas- 
sions of  the  people  among  whom  he  had  begun  to  move, 
like  a  blind  puppet;  and  he  who  began  as  a  puppet,  his 
experience  told  him,  was  often  doomed  to  perish  as  a 
victim. 

From  the  stupor  of  deep  thought  into  which  he  had 
glided  with  the  letter  in  his  hand,  he  was  awakened  by 
the  clatter  of  the  bell.  He  glanced  from  the  window ; 
and,  conceive  his  horror  and  surprise  when  he  beheld, 

77 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

clustered  on  the  steps,  in  the  front  garden  and  on  the 
pavement  of  the  street,  a  formidable  posse  of  police! 
He  started  to  the  full  possession  of  his  powers  and  cour- 
age. Escape,  and  escape  at  any  cost,  was  the  one  idea 
that  possessed  him.  Swiftly  and  silently  he  rede- 
scended  the  creaking  stairs ;  he  was  already  in  the  pas- 
sage when  a  second  and  more  imperious  summons  from 
the  door  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  empty  house;  nor 
had  the  bell  ceased  to  jangle  before  he  had  bestridden 
the  window-sill  of  the  parlour  and  was  lowering  himself 
into  the  garden.  His  coat  was  hooked  upon  the  iron 
flower  basket;  for  a  moment  he  hung  dependent  heels 
and  head  below;  and  then,  with  the  noise  of  rending 
cloth  and  followed  by  several  pots,  he  dropped  upon 
the  sod.  Once  more  the  bell  was  rung,  and  now  with 
furious  and  repeated  peals.  The  desperate  Challoner 
turned  his  eyes  on  every  side.  They  fell  upon  the  lad- 
der, and  he  ran  to  it,  and  with  strenuous  but  unavailing 
effort  sought  to  raise  it  from  the  ground.  Suddenly  the 
weight,  which  was  thus  resisting  his  whole  strength, 
began  to  lighten  in  his  hands ;  the  ladder,  like  a  thing 
of  life,  reared  its  bulk  from  off  the  sod ;  and  Challoner, 
leaping  back  with  a  cry  of  almost  superstitious  terror, 
beheld  the  whole  structure  mount,  foot  by  foot,  against 
the  face  of  the  retaining  wall.  At  the  same  time,  two 
heads  were  dimly  visible  above  the  parapet,  and  he  was 
hailed  by  a  guarded  whistle.  Something  in  its  modu- 
lation recalled,  like  an  echo,  the  whistle  of  the  man  with 
the  chin-beard. 

Had  he  chanced  upon  a  means  of  escape  prepared  be- 
forehand by  those  very  miscreants,  whose  messenger  and 
gull  he  had  become.^    Was  this,  indeed,  a  means  of 

78 


THE  DESTROYING  ANGEL 

safety,  or  but  the  starting-point  of  further  complication 
and  disaster?  He  paused  not  to  reflect.  Scarce  was 
the  ladder  reared  to  its  full  length  than  he  had  sprung 
already  on  the  rounds ;  hand  over  hand,  swift  as  an  ape, 
he  scaled  the  tottering  stairway.  Strong  arms  received, 
embraced,  and  helped  him ;  he  was  lifted  and  set  once 
more  upon  the  earth ;  and  with  the  spasm  of  his  alarm 
yet  unsubsided,  found  himself,  in  the  company  of  two 
rough-looking  men,  in  the  paved  back  yard  of  one  of 
the  tall  houses  that  crowned  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
Meanwhile,  from  below,  the  note  of  the  bell  had  been 
succeeded  by  the  sound  of  vigorous  and  redoubling 
blows. 

'  *  Are  you  all  out  ?  "  asked  one  of  his  companions ;  and 
as  soon  as  he  had  babbled  an  answer  in  the  affirmative, 
the  rope  was  cut  from  the  top  round,  and  the  ladder 
thrust  roughly  back  into  the  garden,  where  it  fell  and 
broke  with  clattering  reverberations.  Its  fall  was  hailed 
with  many  broken  cries ;  for  the  whole  of  Richard  Street 
was  now  in  high  emotion,  the  people  crowding  to  the 
windows  or  clambering  on  the  garden  walls.  The  same 
man  who  had  already  addressed  Challoner  seized  him 
by  the  arm ;  whisked  him  through  the  basement  of  the 
house  and  across  the  street  upon  the  other  side;  and 
before  the  unfortunate  adventurer  had  time  to  realise  his 
situation,  a  door  was  opened  and  he  was  thrust  into  a 
low  and  dark  compartment. 

"  Bedad,"  observed  his  guide,  "  there  was  no  time  to 
lose.     Is  M'Guire  gone,  or  was  it  you  that  whistled  ?  " 

*'M'Guire  is  gone,"  said  Challoner. 

The  guide  now  struck  a  light.  *'  Ah,"  said  he,  *'  this 
will  never  do.     You  dare  not  go  upon  the  streets  in  such 

19 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

a  figure.  Wait  quietly  here  and  I  will  bring  you  some- 
thing decent." 

With  that  the  man  was  gone,  and  Challoner,  his  at- 
tention thus  rudely  awakened,  began  ruefully  to  consider 
the  havoc  that  had  been  worked  in  his  attire.  His  hat 
was  gone;  his  trousers  were  cruelly  ripped;  and  the 
best  part  of  one  tail  of  his  very  elegant  frock-coat  had 
been  left  hanging  from  the  iron  crockets  of  the  window. 
He  had  scarce  had  time  to  measure  these  disasters  when 
his  host  re-entered  the  apartment  and  proceeded,  with- 
out a  word,  to  envelop  the  refined  and  urbane  Chal- 
loner in  a  long  ulster  of  the  cheapest  material  and  of  a 
pattern  so  gross  and  vulgar  that  his  spirit  sickened  at 
the  sight.  This  calumnious  disguise  was  crowned  and 
completed  by  a  soft  felt  hat  of  the  Tyrolese  design  and 
several  sizes  too  small.  At  another  moment  Challoner 
would  simply  have  refused  to  issue  forth  upon  the  world 
thus  travestied ;  but  the  desire  to  escape  from  Glasgow 
was  now  too  strongly  and  too  exclusively  impressed 
upon  his  mind.  With  one  haggard  glance  at  the  spotted 
tails  of  his  new  coat,  he  inquired  what  was  to  pay  for 
this  accoutrement.  The  man  assured  him  that  the  whole 
expense  was  easily  met  from  funds  in  his  possession, 
and  begged  him,  instead  of  wasting  time,  to  make  his 
best  speed  out  of  the  neighbourhood. 

The  young  man  was  not  loath  to  take  the  hint.  True 
to  his  usual  courtesy,  he  thanked  the  speaker  and  com- 
plimented him  upon  his  taste  in  greatcoats;  and  leaving 
the  man  somewhat  abashed  by  these  remarks  and  the 
manner  of  their  delivery,  he  hurried  forth  into  the  lamp- 
lighted  city.  The  last  train  was  gone  ere,  after  many 
deviations,  he  had  reached  the  terminus.     Attired  as  he 

80 


THE   DESTROYING  ANGEL 

was  he  dared  not  present  himself  at  any  reputable  inn ; 
and  he  felt  keenly  that  the  unassuming  dignity  of  his 
demeanour  would  serve  to  attract  attention,  perhaps 
mirth,  and  possibly  suspicion,  in  any  humbler  hostelry. 
He  was  thus  condemned  to  pass  the  solemn  and  un- 
eventful hours  of  a  whole  night  in  pacing  the  streets  of 
Glasgow;  supperless;  a  figure  of  fun  for  all  beholders; 
waiting  the  dawn,  with  hope  indeed,  but  with  uncon- 
querable shrinkings ;  and  above  all  things,  filled  with  a 
profound  sense  of  the  folly  and  weakness  of  his  conduct. 
It  may  be  conceived  with  what  curses  he  assailed  the 
memory  of  the  fair  narrator  of  Hyde  Park ;  her  parting 
laughter  rang  in  his  ears  all  night  with  damning  mock- 
ery and  iteration ;  and  when  he  could  spare  a  thought 
from  this  chief  artificer  of  his  confusion,  it  was  to  ex- 
pend his  wrath  on  Somerset  and  the  career  of  the  ama- 
teur detective.  With  the  coming  of  day,  he  found  in  a 
shy  milk-shop  the  means  to  appease  his  hunger.  There 
were  still  many  hours  to  wait  before  the  departure  of 
the  south  express ;  these  he  passed  wandering  with  in- 
describable fatigue  in  the  obscurer  by-streets  of  the  city ; 
and  at  length  slipped  quietly  into  the  station  and  took 
his  place  in  the  darkest  corner  of  a  third-class  carriage. 
Here,  all  day  long,  he  jolted  on  the  bare  boards,  dis- 
tressed by  heat  and  continually  re-awakened  from  un- 
easy slumbers.  By  the  half  return  ticket  in  his  purse, 
he  was  entitled  to  make  the  journey  on  the  easy  cush- 
ions and  with  the  ample  space  of  the  first-class;  but 
alas!  in  his  absurd  attire  he  durst  not  for  decency  co- 
mingle  with  his  equals;  and  this  small  annoyance, 
coming  last  in  such  a  series  of  disasters,  cut  him  to  the 
heart 

8i 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

That  night,  when,  in  his  Putney  lodging,  he  reviewed 
the  expense,  anxiety,  and  weariness  of  his  adventure; 
when  he  beheld  the  ruins  of  his  last  good  trousers  and 
his  last  presentable  coat;  and  above  all,  when  his  eye 
by  any  chance  alighted  on  the  Tyrolese  hat  or  the  de- 
grading ulster,  his  heart  would  overflow  with  bitterness, 
and  it  was  only  by  a  serious  call  on  his  philosophy  that 
he  maintained  the  dignity  of  his  demeanour. 


somerset's  adventure:  the  superfluous 

MANSION 

Mr.  Paul  Somerset  was  a  young  gentleman  of  a 
lively  and  fiery  imagination,  with  very  small  capacity 
for  action.  He  was  one  who  lived  exclusively  in  dreams 
and  in  the  future :  the  creature  of  his  own  theories,  and 
an  actor  in  his  own  romances.  From  the  cigar  divan 
he  proceeded  to  parade  the  streets,  still  heated  with  the 
fire  of  his  eloquence,  and  scouting  upon  every  side  for 
the  offer  of  some  fortunate  adventure.  In  the  continual 
stream  of  passers-by,  on  the  sealed  fronts  of  houses,  on 
the  posters  that  covered  the  hoardings,  and  in  every 
lineament  and  throb  of  the  great  city  he  saw  a  mysteri- 
ous and  hopeful  hieroglyph.  But  although  the  elements 
of  adventure  were  streaming  by  him  as  thick  as  drops 
of  water  in  the  Thames,  it  was  in  vain  that,  now  with  a 
beseeching,  now  with  something  of  a  braggadocio  air, 
he  courted  and  provoked  the  notice  of  the  passengers ; 
in  vain  that,  putting  fortune  to  the  touch,  he  even  thrust 
himself  into  the  way  and  came  into  direct  collision  with 
those  of  the  more  promising  demeanour.  Persons  brim- 
ful of  secrets,  persons  pining  for  affection,  persons  per- 
ishing for  lack  of  help  or  counsel,  he  was  sure  he  could 
perceive  on  every  side ;  but  by  some  contrariety  of  for- 
tune, each  passed  upon  his  way  without  remarking  the 

83 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

young  gentleman,  and  went  further  (surely  to  fare 
worse!)  in  quest  of  the  confidant,  the  friend,  or  the  ad- 
viser. To  thousands  he  must  have  turned  an  appealing 
countenance,  and  yet  not  one  regarded  him. 

A  light  dinner,  eaten  to  the  accompaniment  of  his 
impetuous  aspirations,  broke  in  upon  the  series  of  his 
attempts  on  fortune;  and  when  he  returned  to  the  task, 
the  lamps  were  already  lighted,  and  the  nocturnal  crowd 
was  dense  upon  the  pavement.  Before  a  certain  restau- 
rant, whose  name  will  readily  occur  to  any  student  of 
our  Babylon,  people  were  already  packed  so  closely  that 
passage  had  grown  difficult ;  and  Somerset,  standing  in 
the  kennel,  watched,  with  a  hope  that  was  beginning 
to  grow  somewhat  weary,  the  faces  and  the  manners  of 
the  crowd.  Suddenly  he  was  startled  by  a  gentle  touch 
upon  the  shoulder,  and  facing  about,  he  was  aware  of  a 
very  plain  and  elegant  brougham,  drawn  by  a  pair  of 
powerful  horses,  and  driven  by  a  man  in  sober  livery. 
There  were  no  arms  upon  the  panel ;  the  window  was 
open,  but  the  interior  was  obscure ;  the  driver  yawned 
behind  his  palm ;  and  the  young  man  was  already  be- 
ginning to  suppose  himself  the  dupe  of  his  own  fancy, 
when  a  hand,  no  larger  than  a  child's  and  smoothly 
gloved  in  white,  appeared  in  a  corner  of  the  window 
and  privily  beckoned  him  to  approach.  He  did  so,  and 
looked  in.  The  carriage  was  occupied  by  a  single  small 
and  dainty  figure,  swathed  head  and  shoulders  in  im- 
penetrable folds  of  white  lace;  and  a  voice,  speaking 
low  and  silvery,  addressed  him  in  these  words : 

**Open  the  door  and  get  in." 

"  It  must  be,"  thought  the  young  man  with  an  almost 
unbearable  thrill,  'Mt  must  be  that  duchess  at  last!" 

84 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION 

Yet,  although  the  moment  was  one  to  which  he  had 
long  looked  forward,  it  was  with  a  certain  share  of 
alarm  that  he  opened  the  door,  and,  mounting  into  the 
brougham,  took  his  seat  beside  the  lady  of  the  lace. 
Whether  or  no  she  had  touched  a  spring,  or  given  some 
other  signal,  the  young  man  had  hardly  closed  the  door 
before  the  carriage,  with  considerable  swiftness,  and 
with  a  very  luxurious  and  easy  movement  on  its  springs, 
turned  and  began  to  drive  toward  the  west. 

Somerset,  as  I  have  written,  was  not  unprepared ;  it 
had  long  been  his  particular  pleasure  to  rehearse  his 
conduct  in  the  most  unlikely  situations ;  and  this,  among 
others,  of  the  patrician  ravisher,  was  one  he  had  famil- 
iarly studied.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  however,  he 
could  find  no  apposite  remark ;  and  as  the  lady,  on  her 
side,  vouchsafed  no  further  sign,  they  continued  to  drive 
in  silence  through  the  streets.  Except  for  alternate 
flashes  from  the  passing  lamps,  the  carriage  was  plunged 
in  obscurity ;  and  beyond  the  fact  that  the  fittings  were 
luxurious,  and  that  the  lady  was  singularly  small  and 
slender  in  person,  and,  all  but  one  gloved  hand,  still 
swathed  in  her  costly  veil,  the  young  man  could  de- 
cipher no  detail  of  an  inspiring  nature.  The  suspense 
began  to  grow  unbearable.  Twice  he  cleared  his  throat, 
and  twice  the  whole  resources  of  the  language  failed 
him.  In  similar  scenes,  when  he  had  forecast  them  on 
the  theatre  of  fancy,  his  presence  of  mind  had  always 
been  complete,  his  eloquence  remarkable;  and  at  this 
disparity  between  the  rehearsal  and  the  performance, 
he  began  to  be  seized  with  a  panic  of  apprehension. 
Here,  on  the  very  threshold  of  adventure,  suppose  him 
ignominiously  to  fail ;  suppose  that  after  ten,  twenty,  or 

85 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

sixty  seconds  of  still  uninterrupted  silence,  the  lady 
should  touch  the  check-string  and  re-deposit  him, 
weighed  and  found  wanting,  on  the  common  street! 
Thousands  of  persons  of  no  mind  at  all,  he  reasoned, 
would  be  found  more  equal  to  the  part ;  could,  that  very 
instant,  by  some  decisive  step,  prove  the  lady's  choice 
to  have  been  well  inspired,  and  put  a  stop  to  this  intol- 
erable silence. 

His  eye,  at  this  point,  lighted  on  the  hand.  It  was 
better  to  fall  by  desperate  councils  than  to  continue  as 
he  was ;  and  with  one  tremulous  swoop  he  pounced  on 
the  gloved  fingers  and  drew  them  to  himself.  One 
overt  step,  it  had  appeared  to  him,  would  dissolve  the 
spell  of  his  embarrassment;  in  act,  he  found  it  other- 
wise :  he  found  himself  no  less  incapable  of  speech  or 
further  progress ;  and  with  the  lady's  hand  in  his,  sat 
helpless.  But  worse  was  in  store.  A  peculiar  quiver- 
ing began  to  agitate  the  form  of  his  companion;  the 
hand  that  lay  unresistingly  in  Somerset's  trembled  as 
with  ague ;  and  presently  there  broke  forth,  in  the  sha- 
dow of  the  carriage,  the  bubbling  and  musical  sound  of 
laughter,  resisted  but  triumphant.  The  young  man 
dropped  his  prize ;  had  it  been  possible,  he  would  have 
bounded  from  the  carriage.  The  lady,  meanwhile,  ly- 
ing back  upon  the  cushions,  passed  on  from  trill  to  trill 
of  the  most  heartfelt,  high-pitched,  clear  and  fairy- 
sounding  merriment. 

"You  must  not  be  offended,"  she  said  at  last,  catch- 
ing an  opportunity  between  two  paroxysms.  **  If  you 
have  been  mistaken  in  the  warmth  of  your  atten- 
tions, the  fault  is  solely  mine;  it  does  not  flow  from 
your  presumption,  but  from  my  eccentric  manner  of  re- 

86 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

cruiting  friends ;  and,  believe  me,  I  am  the  last  person 
in  the  world  to  think  the  worse  of  a  young  man  for 
showing  spirit.  As  for  to-night,  it  is  my  intention  to 
entertain  you  to  a  little  supper;  and  if  I  shall  continue 
to  be  as  much  pleased  with  your  manners  as  I  was  taken 
with  your  face,  I  may  perhaps  end  by  making  you  an 
advantageous  offer." 

Somerset  sought  in  vain  to  find  some  form  of  an- 
swer, but  his  discomfiture  had  been  too  recent  and 
complete. 

**Come,"  returned  the  lady,  "we  must  have  no  dis- 
play of  temper;  that  is  for  me  the  one  disqualifying 
fault ;  and  as  I  perceive  we  are  drawing  near  our  destina- 
tion, I  shall  ask  you  to  descend  and  offer  me  your  arm." 

Indeed,  at  that  very  moment  the  carriage  drew  up 
before  a  stately  and  severe  mansion  in  a  spacious  square ; 
and  Somerset,  who  was  possessed  of  an  excellent  tem- 
per, with  the  best  grace  in  the  world  assisted  the  lady 
to  alight.  The  door  was  opened  by  an  old  woman  of 
a  grim  appearance,  who  ushered  the  pair  into  a  dining- 
room  somewhat  dimly  lighted,  but  already  laid  for  sup- 
per, and  occupied  by  a  prodigious  company  of  large  and 
valuable  cats.  Here,  as  soon  as  they  were  alone,  the 
lady  divested  herself  of  the  lace  in  which  she  was  in- 
folded ;  and  Somerset  was  relieved  to  find,  that  although 
still  bearing  the  traces  of  great  beauty,  and  still  distin- 
guished by  the  fire  and  colour  of  her  eye,  her  hair  was 
of  a  silvery  whiteness  and  her  face  lined  with  years. 

"And  now,  monpreux/' said  the  old  lady,  nodding 
at  him  with  a  quaint  gayety,  "you  perceive  that  I  am 
no  longer  in  my  first  youth.  You  will  soon  find  that  I 
am  all  the  better  company  for  that." 

87 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

As  she  spoke,  the  maid  re-entered  the  apartment  with 
a  light  but  tasteful  supper.  They  sat  down,  accord- 
ingly, to  table,  the  cats  with  savage  pantomime  sur- 
rounding the  old  lady's  chair,  and  what  with  the  excel- 
lence of  the  meal  and  the  gayety  of  his  entertainer,  Som- 
erset was  soon  completely  at  his  ease.  When  they  had 
well  eaten  and  drunk,  the  old  lady  leaned  back  in  her 
chair,  and  taking  a  cat  upon  her  lap,  subjected  her  guest 
to  a  prolonged  but  evidently  mirthful  scrutiny. 

*']  fear,  madam,"  said  Somerset,  "that  my  manners 
have  not  risen  to  the  height  of  your  preconceived 
opinion." 

*'My  dear  young  man,"  she  replied,  "you  were 
never  more  mistaken  in  your  life.  I  find  you  charming, 
and  you  may  very  well  have  lighted  on  a  fairy  god- 
mother. 1  am  not  one  of  those  who  are  given  to 
change  their  opinions,  and  short  of  substantial  demerit, 
those  who  have  once  gained  my  favour  continue  to 
enjoy  it;  but  I  have  a  singular  swiftness  of  decision, 
read  my  fellow  men  and  women  with  a  glance,  and 
have  acted  throughout  life  on  first  impressions.  Yours, 
as  I  tell  you,  has  been  favourable :  and  if,  as  I  suppose, 
you  are  a  young  fellow  of  somewhat  idle  habits,  I  think 
it  not  improbable  that  we  may  strike  a  bargain." 

"Ah,  madam,"  returned  Somerset,  "you  have  di- 
vined my  situation.  I  am  a  man  of  birth,  parts  and 
breeding;  excellent  company,  or  at  least  so  I  find  myself; 
but  by  a  peculiar  iniquity  of  fate,  destitute  alike  of  trade 
or  money.  I  was,  indeed,  this  evening  upon  the  quest 
of  an  adventure,  resolved  to  close  with  any  offer  of  in- 
terest, emolument  or  pleasure;  and  your  summons, 
which  I  profess  I  am  still  at  some  loss  to  understand, 

88 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

jumped  naturally  with  the  inclination  of  my  mind.  Call 
it,  if  you  will,  impudence;  lam  here,  at  least,  prepared 
for  any  proposition  you  can  find  it  in  your  heart  to  make, 
and  resolutely  determined  to  accept." 

'*  You  express  yourself  very  well,"  replied  the  old 
lady,  "  and  are  certainly  a  droll  and  curious  young  man. 
1  should  not  care  to  affirm  that  you  were  sane,  for  I 
have  never  found  any  one  entirely  so  besides  myself; 
but  at  least  the  nature  of  your  madness  entertains  me, 
and  I  will  reward  you  with  some  description  of  my 
character  and  life." 

Thereupon  the  old  lady,  still  fondling  the  cat  upon 
her  lap,  proceeded  to  narrate  the  following  particulars. 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD  LADY 

1  WAS  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  Reverend  Bernard 
Fanshawe,  who  held  a  valuable  living  in  the  diocese  of 
Bath  and  Wells.  Our  family,  a  very  large  one,  was 
noted  for  a  sprightly  and  incisive  wit,  and  came  of  a 
good  old  stock  where  beauty  was  an  heirloom.  In 
Christian  grace  of  character  we  were  unhappily  deficient 
From  my  earliest  years  I  saw  and  deplored  the  defects 
of  those  relatives  whose  age  and  position  should  have 
enabled  them  to  conquer  my  esteem ;  and  while  I  was 
yet  a  child,  my  father  married  a  second  wife,  in  whom 
(strange  to  say)  the  Fanshawe  failings  were  exaggerated 
to  a  monstrous  and  almost  laughable  degree.  What- 
ever may  be  said  against  me,  it  cannot  be  denied  I  was 
a  pattern  daughter;  but  it  was  in  vain  that,  with  the 
most  touching  patience,  I  submitted  to  my  stepmother's 
demands;  and  from  the  hour  she  entered  my  father's 
house,  I  may  say  that  I  met  with  nothing  but  injustice 
and  ingratitude. 

I  stood  not  alone,  however,  in  the  sweetness  of  my 
disposition ;  for  one  other  of  the  family  besides  myself 
was  free  from  any  violence  of  character.  Before  I  had 
reached  the  age  of  sixteen,  this  cousin,  John  by  name, 
had  conceived  for  me  a  sincere  but  silent  passion ;  and 
although  the  poor  lad  was  too  timid  to  hint  at  the  na- 

90 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD  LADY 

ture  of  his  feelings,  I  had  soon  divined  and  begun  to 
share  them.  For  some  days  I  pondered  on  the  odd  situ- 
ation created  for  me  by  the  bashfulness  of  my  admirer: 
and  at  length,  perceiving  that  he  began,  in  his  distress, 
rather  to  avoid  than  seek  my  company,  I  determined  to 
take  the  matter  into  my  own  hands.  Finding  him  alone 
in  a  retired  part  of  the  rectory  garden,  I  told  him  that  I 
had  divined  his  amiable  secret;  that  I  knew  with  what 
disfavour  our  union  was  sure  to  be  regarded ;  and  that, 
under  the  circumstances,  I  was  prepared  to  flee  with 
him  at  once.  Poor  John  was  literally  paralysed  with 
joy;  such  was  the  force  of  his  emotions,  that  he  could 
find  no  words  in  which  to  thank  me ;  and  that  I,  seeing 
him  thus  helpless,  was  obliged  to  arrange,  myself,  the 
details  of  our  flight,  and  of  the  stolen  marriage  which 
was  immediately  to  crown  it.  John  had  been  at  that  time 
projecting  a  visit  to  the  metropolis.  In  this  I  bade  him 
persevere,  and  promised  on  the  following  day  to  join 
him  at  the  Tavistock  Hotel. 

True,  on  my  side,  to  every  detail  of  our  arrangement, 
I  arose,  on  the  day  in  question,  before  the  servants, 
packed  a  few  necessaries  in  a  bag,  took  with  me  the  lit- 
tle money  I  possessed,  and  bade  farewell  forever  to  the 
rectory.  I  walked  with  good  spirits  to  a  town  some 
thirty  miles  from  home,  and  was  set  down  the  next 
morning  in  this  great  city  of  London.  As  I  walked 
from  the  coach-office  to  the  hotel,  I  could  not  help  ex- 
ulting in  the  pleasant  change  that  had  befallen  me;  be- 
holding, meanwhile,  with  innocent  delight,  the  traffic 
of  the  streets,  and  depicting,  in  all  the  colours  of  fancy, 
the  reception  that  awaited  me  from  John.  But  alas! 
when  I  inquired  for  Mr.  Fanshawe,  the  porter  assured 

91 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

me  there  was  no  such  gentleman  among  the  guests. 
By  what  channel  our  secret  had  leaked  out,  or  what 
pressure  had  been  brought  to  bear  on  the  too  facile  John, 
I  could  never  fathom.  Enough  that  my  family  had  tri- 
umphed ;  that  I  found  myself  alone  in  London,  tender  in 
years,  smarting  under  the  most  sensible  mortification, 
and  by  every  sentiment  of  pride  and  self-respect  de- 
barred forever  from  my  father's  house. 

I  rose  under  the  blow,  and  found  lodgings  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Euston  Road,  where,  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  I  tasted  the  joys  of  independence.  Three 
days  afterwards^  an  advertisement  in  The  Times  directed 
me  to  the  office  of  a  solicitor  whom  I  knew  to  be  in  my 
father's  confidence.  There  I  was  given  the  promise  of 
a  very  moderate  allowance,  and  a  distinct  intimation  that 
I  must  never  look  to  be  received  at  home.  I  could  not 
but  resent  so  cruel  a  desertion,  and  I  told  the  lawyer  it 
was  a  meeting  I  desired  as  little  as  themselves.  He 
smiled  at  my  courageous  spirit,  paid  me  the  first  quar- 
ter of  my  income,  and  gave  me  the  remainder  of  my 
personal  effects,  which  had  been  sent  to  me  under  his 
care,  in  a  couple  of  rather  ponderous  boxes.  With 
these  I  returned  in  triumph  to  my  lodgings,  more  con- 
tent with  my  position  than  I  should  have  thought  pos- 
sible a  week  before  and  fully  determined  to  make  the 
best  of  the  future. 

All  went  well  for  several  months;  and,  indeed,  it  was 
my  own  fault  alone  that  ended  this  pleasant  and  se- 
cluded episode  of  life.  I  have,  I  must  confess,  the  fatal 
trick  of  spoiling  my  inferiors.  My  landlady,  to  whom 
I  had  as  usual  been  overkind,  impertinently  called  me 
in  fault  for  some  particular  too  small  to  mention ;  and  I, 

92 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD   LADY 

annoyed  that  I  had  allowed  her  the  freedom  upon  which 
she  thus  presumed,  ordered  her  to  leave  my  presence. 
She  stood  a  moment  dumb,  and  then,  recalling  her  self- 
possession,  '*  Your  bill,"  said  she,  "shall  be  ready  this 
evening,  and  to-morrow,  madam,  you  shall  leave  my 
house.  See,"  she  added,  "that  you  are  able  to  pay 
what  you  owe  me ;  for  if  I  do  not  receive  the  uttermost 
farthing,  no  box  of  yours  shall  pass  my  threshold." 

I  was  confounded  at  her  audacity,  but  as  a  whole 
quarter's  income  was  due  to  me,  not  otherwise  affected 
by  the  threat.  That  afternoon,  as  I  left  the  solicitor's 
door,  carrying  in  one  hand,  and  done  up  in  a  paper 
parcel,  the  whole  amount  of  my  fortune,  there  befell  me 
one  of  those  decisive  incidents  that  sometimes  shape  a 
life.  The  lawyer's  office  was  situate  in  a  street  that 
opened  at  the  upper  end  upon  the  Strand  and  was  closed 
at  the  lower,  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  by  a  row  of 
iron  railings  looking  on  the  Thames.  Down  this  street, 
then,  I  beheld  my  stepmother  advancing  to  meet  me, 
and  doubtless  bound  to  the  very  house  I  had  just  left. 
She  was  attended  by  a  maid  whose  face  was  new  to  me; 
but  her  own  was  too  clearly  printed  on  my  memory; 
and  the  sight  of  it,  even  from  a  distance,  filled  me  with 
generous  indignation.  Flight  was  impossible.  There 
was  nothing  left  but  to  retreat  against  the  railing,  and 
with  my  back  turned  to  the  street,  pretend  to  be  ad- 
miring the  barges  on  the  river  or  the  chimneys  of  tran- 
spontine London. 

I  was  still  standing,  and  had  not  yet  fully  mastered 
the  turbulence  of  my  emotions,  when  a  voice  at  my  el- 
bow addressed  me  with  a  trivial  question.  It  was  the 
maid  whom  my  stepmother,  with  characteristic  hard 

93 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

ness,  had  left  to  await  her  on  the  street,  while  she  trans- 
acted her  business  with  the  family  solicitor.  The  girl 
did  not  know  who  I  was ;  the  opportunity  too  golden 
to  be  lost ;  and  I  was  soon  hearing  the  latest  news  of 
my  father's  rectory  and  parish.  It  did  not  surprise  me 
to  find  that  she  detested  her  employers;  and  yet  the 
terms  in  which  she  spoke  of  them  were  hard  to  bear, 
hard  to  let  pass  unchallenged.  I  heard  them,  however, 
without  dissent,  for  my  self-command  is  wonderful ;  and 
we  might  have  parted  as  we  met  had  she  not  proceeded, 
in  an  evil  hour,  to  criticise  the  rector's  missing  daughter, 
and  with  the  most  shocking  perversions,  to  narrate  the 
story  of  her  flight.  My  nature  is  so  essentially  generous 
that  I  can  never  pause  to  reason.  1  flung  up  my  hand 
sharply,  by  way,  as  well  as  I  remember,  of  indignant 
protest;  and,  in  the  act,  the  packet  slipped  from  my 
fingers,  glanced  between  the  railings,  and  fell  and  sunk 
in  the  river.  I  stood  for  a  moment  petrified,  and  then, 
struck  by  the  drollery  of  the  incident,  gave  way  to  peals 
of  laughter.  I  was  still  laughing  when  my  stepmother 
reappeared,  and  the  maid,  who  doubtless  considered  me 
insane,  ran  off  to  join  her;  nor  had  I  yet  recovered  my 
gravity  when  I  presented  myself  before  the  lawyer  to 
solicit  a  fresh  advance.  His  answer  made  me  serious 
enough,  for  it  was  a  flat  refusal ;  and  it  was  not  until  I 
had  besought  him  even  with  tears,  that  he  consented  to 
lend  me  ten  pounds  from  his  own  pocket.  "I  am  a 
poor  man,"  said  he,  "and  you  must  look  for  nothing 
further  at  my  hands." 

The  landlady  met  me  at  the  door.  " Here,  madam," 
said  she,  with  a  courtesy  insolently  low,  "here  is  my 
bill.    Would  it  inconvenience  you  to  settle  it  at  once?" 

94 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD   LADY 

"You  shall  be  paid,  madam,"  said  I,  *'in  the  morn- 
ing, in  the  proper  course."  And  I  took  the  paper  with 
a  very  high  air,  but  inwardly  quaking. 

I  had  no  sooner  looked  at  it  than  I  perceived  myself 
to  be  lost.  I  had  been  short  of  money  and  had  allowed 
my  debt  to  mount;  and  it  had  now  reached  the  sum, 
which  1  shall  never  forget,  of  twelve  pounds  thirteen 
shillings  and  fourpence  halfpenny.  All  evening  I  sat  by 
the  fire  considering  my  situation.  I  could  not  pay  the 
bill;  my  landlady  would  not  suffer  me  to  remove  my 
boxes ;  and  without  either  baggage  or  money,  how  was 
1  to  find  another  lodging  ?  For  three  months,  unless  I 
could  invent  some  remedy,  I  was  condemned  to  be 
without  a  roof  and  without  a  penny.  It  can  surprise 
no  one  that  I  decided  on  immediate  flight;  but  even 
here  I  was  confronted  by  a  difficulty,  for  I  had  no  sooner 
packed  my  boxes  than  I  found  I  was  not  strong  enough 
to  move,  far  less  to  carry  them. 

In  this  strait  I  did  not  hesitate  a  moment,  but  throw- 
ing on  a  shawl  and  bonnet,  and  covering  my  face  with 
a  thick  veil,  I  betook  myself  to  that  great  bazar  of  dan- 
gerous and  smiling  chances,  the  pavement  of  the  city. 
It  was  already  late  at  night,  and  the  weather  being  wet 
and  windy,  there  were  few  abroad  besides  policemen. 
These,  on  my  present  mission,  I  had  wit  enough  to 
know  for  enemies ;  and  wherever  I  perceived  their  mov- 
ing lanterns,  I  made  haste  to  turn  aside  and  choose  an- 
other thoroughfare.  A  few  miserable  women  still  walked 
the  pavement ;  here  and  there  were  young  fellows  re- 
turning drunk,  or  ruffians  of  the  lowest  class  lurking  in 
the  mouths  of  alleys ;  but  of  any  one  to  whom  I  might 
appeal  in  my  distress,  I  began  almost  to  despair. 

95 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

At  last,  at  the  corner  of  a  street,  I  ran  into  the  arms 
of  one  who  was  evidently  a  gentleman,  and  who,  in  all 
his  appointments,  from  his  furred  great-coat  to  the  fine 
cigar  which  he  was  smoking,  comfortably  breathed  of 
wealth.  Much  as  my  face  has  changed  from  its  original 
beauty,  I  still  retain  (or  so  I  tell  myself)  some  traces  of 
the  youthful  lightness  of  my  figure.  Even  veiled  as  I 
then  was,  I  could  perceive  the  gentleman  was  struck  by 
my  appearance;  and  this  emboldened  me  for  my  ad- 
venture. 

*'Sir,"  said  I  with  a  quickly  beating  heart,  *'are  you 
one  in  whom  a  lady  can  confide  ?" 

'*Why,  my  dear,"  said  he,  removing  his  cigar,  *'that 
depends  on  circumstances.  If  you  will  raise  your 
veil " 

"Sir,"  I  interrupted,  "  let  there  be  no  mistake.  I  ask 
you,  as  a  gentleman,  to  serve  me,  but  I  offer  no  re- 
ward." 

**That  is  frank,"  said  he,  ''but  hardly  tempting. 
And  what,  may  I  inquire,  is  the  nature  of  the  service  ?  " 

But  I  knew  well  enough  it  was  not  my  interest  to 
tell  him  on  so  short  an  interview.  "  If  you  will  accom- 
pany me,"  said  I,  ''to  a  house  not  far  from  here,  you 
can  see  for  yourself" 

He  looked  at  me  awhile  with  hesitating  eyes;  and 
then,  tossing  away  his  cigar,  which  was  not  yet  a  quar- 
ter smoked,  "Here  goes!"  said  he,  and  with  perfect 
politeness  offered  me  his  arm.  I  was  wise  enough  to 
take  it;  to  prolong  our  walk  as  far  as  possible,  by  more 
than  one  excursion  from  the  shortest  line;  and  to  be- 
guile the  way  with  that  sort  of  conversation  which 
should  prove  to  him  indubitably  from  what  station  in 

96 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

society  I  sprang.  By  the  time  we  reached  the  door  of 
my  lodging  I  felt  sure  I  had  confirmed  his  interest,  and 
might  venture,  before  I  turned  the  pass-key,  to  beseech 
him  to  moderate  his  voice  and  to  tread  softly.  He 
promised  to  obey  me;  and  I  admitted  him  into  the 
passage  and  thence  into  my  sitting-room,  which  was 
fortunately  next  the  door. 

''And  now,"  said  he,  when  with  trembling  fingers 
I  had  lighted  a  candle,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this  ?  " 

"  I  wish  you,"  said  I,  speaking  with  great  difficulty, 
**  to  help  me  out  with  these  boxes  —  and  I  wish  nobody 
to  know." 

He  took  up  the  candle.  *'And  I  wish  to  see  your 
face,"  he  said. 

I  turned  back  my  veil  without  a  word,  and  looked  at 
him  with  every  appearance  of  resolve  that  I  could  sum- 
mon up.  For  some  time  he  gazed  into  my  face,  still 
holding  up  the  candle.  ''Well,"  said  he  at  last,  **  and 
where  do  you  wish  them  taken  ?" 

1  knew  that  I  had  gained  my  point ;  and  it  was  with 
a  tremor  in  my  voice  that  I  replied,  '*!  had  thought  we 
might  carry  them  between  us  to  the  corner  of  Euston 
Road,"  said  I,  *' where,  even  at  this  late  hour,  we  may 
still  find  a  cab." 

''Very  good,"  was  his  reply;  and  he  immediately 
hoisted  the  heavier  of  my  trunks  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  taking  one  handle  of  the  second,  signed  to  me  to 
help  him  at  the  other  end.  In  this  order  we  made 
good  our  retreat  from  the  house,  and  without  the  least 
adventure,  drew  pretty  near  to  the  corner  of  Euston 
Road.     Before  a  house,  where  there  was  a  light  still 

97 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

burning,  my  companion  paused.  ''Let  us  here,"  said 
he,  "set  down  our  boxes,  while  we  go  forward  to  the 
end  of  the  street  in  quest  of  a  cab.  By  doing  so,  we 
can  still  keep  an  eye  upon  their  safety ;  and  we  avoid 
the  very  extraordinary  figure  we  should  otherwise  pre- 
sent—  a  young  man,  a  young  lady,  and  a  mass  of  bag- 
gage, standing  castaway  at  midnight  on  the  streets  of 
London."  So  it  was  done,  and  the  event  proved  him 
to  be  wise ;  for  long  before  there  was  any  word  of  a 
cab,  a  policeman  appeared  upon  the  scene,  turned  upon 
us  the  full  glare  of  his  lantern,  and  hung  suspiciously 
behind  us  in  a  doorway. 

"There  seem  to  be  no  cabs  about,  policeman,"  said 
my  champion,  with  affected  cheerfulness.  But  the  con- 
stable's answer  was  ungracious ;  and  as  for  the  offer  of 
a  cigar,  with  which  this  rebuff  was  most  unwisely  fol- 
lowed up,  he  refused  it  point-blank,  and  without  the 
least  civility.  The  young  gentleman  looked  at  me  with 
a  warning  grimace,  and  there  we  continued  to  stand, 
on  the  edge  of  the  pavement,  in  the  beating  rain,  and 
with  the  policeman  still  silently  watching  our  move- 
ments from  the  doorway. 

At  last,  and  after  a  delay  that  seemed  interminable,  a 
four-wheeler  appeared  lumbering  along  in  the  mud,  and 
was  instantly  hailed  by  my  companion.  "Just  pull  up 
here,  will  you?"  he  cried.  "We  have  some  baggage 
up  the  street. " 

And  now  came  the  hitch  of  our  adventure ;  for  when 
the  policeman,  still  closely  following  us,  beheld  my 
two  boxes  lying  in  the  rain,  he  arose  from  mere  sus- 
picion to  a  kind  of  certitude  of  something  evil.  The 
light  in  the  house  had  been  extinguished;  the  whole 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD   LADY 

frontage  of  the  street  was  dark;  there  was  nothing  to 
explain  the  presence  of  these  unguarded  trunks;  and 
no  two  innocent  people  were  ever,  I  believe,  detected 
in  such  questionable  circumstances. 

** Where  have  these  things  come  from?"  asked  the 
policeman,  flashing  his  light  full  into  my  companion's 
face. 

'*Why,  from  that  house,  of  course,"  replied  the 
young  gentleman,  hastily  shouldering  a  trunk. 

The  policeman  whistled  and  turned  to  look  at  the 
dark  windows ;  he  then  took  a  step  toward  the  door, 
as  though  to  knock,  a  course  which  had  infallibly 
proved  our  ruin ;  but  seeing  us  already  hurrying  down 
the  street  under  our  double  burden,  thought  better  or 
worse  of  it,  and  followed  in  our  wake. 

"For  God's  sake,"  whispered  my  companion,  '*tell 
me  where  to  drive  to." 

'*  Anywhere,"  I  replied,  with  anguish.  **I  have  no 
idea.     Anywhere  you  like." 

Thus  it  befell  that,  when  the  boxes  had  been  stowed 
and  I  had  already  entered  the  cab,  my  deliverer  called 
out  in  clear  tones  the  address  of  the  house  in  which  we 
are  now  seated.  The  policeman,  I  could  see,  was  stag- 
gered. This  neighbourhood,  so  retired,  so  aristocratic, 
was  far  from  what  he  had  expected.  For  all  that,  he 
took  the  number,  and  spoke  for  a  few  seconds  and 
with  a  decided  manner,  in  the  cabman's  ear. 

*' What  can  he  have  said  ?"  I  gasped,  as  soon  as  the 
cab  had  rolled  away. 

"I  can  very  well  imagine,"  replied  my  champion; 
"and  I  can  assure  you  that  you  are  now  condemned  to 
go  where  I  have  said ;  for,  should  we  attempt  to  change 

99 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

our  destination  by  the  way,  the  jarvey  will  drive  us 
straight  to  a  police  office.  Let  me  compliment  you  on 
your  nerves,"  he  added.  **Ihave  had,  I  believe,  the 
most  horrible  fright  of  my  existence." 

But  my  nerves,  which  he  so  much  misjudged,  were 
in  so  strange  a  disarray  that  speech  was  now  become 
impossible;  and  we  made  the  drive  thenceforward  in 
unbroken  silence.  When  we  arrived  before  the  door  of 
our  destination,  the  young  gentleman  alighted,  opened 
it  with  a  pass-key  like  one  who  was  at  home,  bade  the 
driver  carry  the  trunks  into  the  hall,  and  dismissed  him 
with  a  handsome  fee.  He  then  led  me  into  this  dining- 
room,  looking  nearly  as  you  behold  it,  but  with  certain 
marks  of  bachelor  occupancy,  and  hastened  to  pour  out 
a  glass  of  wine,  which  he  insisted  on  my  drinking.  As 
soon  as  I  could  find  my  voice,  'Mn  God's  name,"  I 
cried,  *' where  am  I?" 

He  then  told  me  1  was  in  his  house,  where  I  was  very 
welcome,  and  had  no  more  urgent  business  than  to  rest 
myself  and  recover  my  spirits.  As  he  spoke  he  offered 
me  another  glass  of  wine,  of  which,  indeed,  I  stood  in 
great  want,  for  I  was  faint,  and  inclined  to  be  hyster- 
ical. Then  he  sat  down  beside  the  fire,  lighted  another 
cigar,  and  for  some  time  observed  me  curiously  and  in 
silence. 

'*  And  now,"  said  he,  "  that  you  have  somewhat  re- 
stored yourself,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  in 
what  sort  of  crime  1  have  become  a  partner  ?  Are  you 
murderess,  smuggler,  thief,  or  only  the  harmless  and 
domestic  moonlight  flitter  ?  " 

I  had  been  already  shocked  by  his  lighting  a  cigar 
without  permission,  for  I  had  not  forgotten  the  one  he 

lOO 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

threw  away  on  our  first  meeting;  and  now,  at  these 
explicit  insults,  I  resolved  at  once  to  reconquer  his 
esteem.  The  judgment  of  the  world  I  have  consist- 
ently despised,  but  I  had  already  begun  to  set  a  cer- 
tain value  on  the  good  opinion  of  my  entertainer. 
Beginning  with  a  note  of  pathos,  but  soon  brighten- 
ing into  my  habitual  vivacity  and  humour,  I  rapidly 
narrated  the  circumstances  of  my  birth,  my  flight, 
and  subsequent  misfortunes.  He  heard  me  to  an 
end  in  silence,  gravely  smoking.  '*Miss  Fanshawe," 
said  he,  when  I  had  done,  **you  are  a  very  comical  and 
most  enchanting  creature ;  and  I  see  nothing  for  it  but 
that  I  should  return  to-morrow  morning  and  satisfy  your 
landlady's  demands." 

"You  strangely  misinterpret  my  confidence,"  was 
my  reply;  **  and  if  you  had  at  all  appreciated  my  char- 
acter, you  would  understand  that  I  can  take  no  money 
at  your  hands." 

"  Your  landlady  will  doubtless  not  be  so  particular," 
he  returned;  *'  neither  do  I  at  all  despair  of  persuading 
even  your  unconquerable  self.  I  desire  you  to  examine 
me  with  critical  indulgence.  My  name  is  Henry  Lux- 
more,  Lord  Southwark's  second  son.  I  possess  nine 
thousand  a  year,  the  house  in  which  we  are  now  sitting 
and  seven  others  in  the  best  neighbourhoods  in  town.  I 
do  not  believe  I  am  repulsive  to  the  eye,  and  as  for  my 
character,  you  have  seen  me  under  trial.  I  think  you 
simply  the  most  original  of  created  beings ;  I  need  not 
tell  you  what  you  know  very  well,  that  you  are  ravish- 
ingly  pretty ;  and  I  have  nothing  more  to  add,  except 
that,  foolish  as  it  may  appear,  I  am  already  head  over 
heels  in  love  with  you. " 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

''Sir,"  said  I,  'M  am  prepared  to  be  misjudged;  but 
while  I  continue  to  accept  your  hospitality  that  fact 
alone  should  be  enough  to  protect  me  from  insult." 

''  Pardon  me,"  said  he;  ''I  offer  you  marriage."  And 
leaning  back  in  his  chair  he  replaced  his  cigar  between 
his  lips. 

I  own  I  was  confounded  by  an  offer,  not  only  so  un- 
prepared, but  couched  in  terms  so  singular.  But  he 
knew  very  well  how  to  obtain  his  purposes,  for  he  was 
not  only  handsome  in  person,  but  his  very  coolness  had 
a  charm ;  and  to  make  a  long  story  short,  a  fortnight 
later  I  became  the  wife  of  the  Honorable  Henry  Lux- 
more. 

For  nearly  twenty  years  I  now  led  a  life  of  almost  per- 
fect quiet.  My  Henry  had  his  weaknesses ;  I  was  twice 
driven  to  flee  from  his  roof,  but  not  for  long ;  for  though 
he  was  easily  over-excited,  his  nature  was  placable  be- 
low the  surface,  and  with  all  his  faults,  I  loved  him  ten- 
derly. At  last  he  was  taken  from  me ;  and  such  is  the 
power  of  self-deception,  and  so  strange  are  the  whims 
of  the  dying,  he  actually  assured  me,  with  his  latest 
breath,  that  he  forgave  the  violence  of  my  temper! 

There  was  but  one  pledge  of  the  marriage,  my  daugh- 
ter Clara.  She  had,  indeed,  inherited  a  shadow  of  her 
father's  failing;  but  in  all  things  else,  unless  my  partial 
eyes  deceived  me,  she  derived  her  qualities  from  me,  and 
might  be  called  my  moral  image.  On  my  side,  what- 
ever else  1  may  have  done  amiss,  as  a  mother  I  was 
above  reproach.  Here,  then,  was  surely  every  promise 
for  the  future ;  here,  at  last,  was  a  relation  in  which  I 
might  hope  to  taste  repose.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  You 
will  hardly  credit  me  when  I  inform  you  that  she  ran 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

away  from  home ;  yet  such  was  the  case.  Some  whim 
about  oppressed  nationalities  —  Ireland,  Poland,  and  the 
like  —  has  turned  her  brain ;  and  if  you  should  any- 
where encounter  a  young  lady  (I  must  say,  of  remarka- 
ble attractions)  answering  to  the  name  of  Luxmore, 
Lake,  or  Fonblanque  (for  I  am  told  she  uses  these  in- 
differently, as  well  as  many  others),  tell  her  for  me,  that 
I  forgive  her  cruelty,  and  though  I  will  never  more  be- 
hold her  face,  I  am  at  any  time  prepared  to  make  her  a 
liberal  allowance. 

On  the  death  of  Mr.  Luxmore,  I  sought  oblivion  in 
the  details  of  business.  I  believe  I  have  mentioned  that 
seven  mansions,  besides  this,  formed  part  of  Mr.  Lux- 
more's  property:  I  have  found  them  seven  white  ele- 
phants. The  greed  of  tenants,  the  dishonesty  of  solici- 
tors, and  the  incapacity  that  sits  upon  the  bench,  have 
combined  together  to  make  these  houses  the  burden  of 
my  life.  I  had  no  sooner,  indeed,  begun  to  look  into 
these  matters  for  myself,  than  I  discovered  so  many  in- 
justices and  met  with  so  much  studied  incivility,  that  I 
was  plunged  into  a  long  series  of  law  suits,  some  of 
which  are  pending  to  this  day.  You  must  have  heard 
my  name  already ;  I  am  the  Mrs.  Luxmore  of  the  Law 
Reports:  a  strange  destiny,  indeed,  for  one  bom  with 
an  almost  cowardly  desire  for  peace !  But  I  am  of  the 
stamp  of  those  who,  when  they  have  once  begun  a  task, 
will  rather  die  than  leave  their  duty  unfulfilled.  I  have 
met  with  every  obstacle :  insolence  and  ingratitude  from 
my  own  lawyers ;  in  my  adversaries,  that  fault  of  obsti- 
nacy which  is  to  me  perhaps  the  most  distasteful  in  the 
calendar;  from  the  bench,  civility  indeed  —  always,  I 
must  allow,  civility  —  but  never  a  spark  of  independ- 

103 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

ence,  never  that  knowledge  of  the  law  and  love  of  jus- 
tice which  we  have  a  right  to  look  for  in  a  judge,  the 
most  august  of  human  officers.  And  still,  against  all 
these  odds,  I  have  undissuadably  persevered. 

It  was  after  the  loss  of  one  of  my  innumerable  cases 
(a  subject  on  which  I  will  not  dwell)  that  it  occurred  to 
me  to  make  a  melancholy  pilgrimage  to  my  various 
houses.  Four  were  at  that  time  tenantless  and  closed, 
like  pillars  of  salt,  commemorating  the  corruption  of  the 
age  and  the  decline  of  private  virtue.  Three  were  oc- 
cupied by  persons  who  had  wearied  me  by  every  con- 
ceivable unjust  demand  and  legal  subterfuge  —  persons 
whom,  at  that  very  hour,  I  was  moving  heaven  and 
earth  to  turn  into  the  street.  This  was  perhaps  the 
sadder  spectacle  of  the  two;  and  my  heart  grew  hot 
within  me  to  behold  them  occupying,  in  my  very  teeth, 
and  with  an  insolent  ostentation,  these  handsome  struc- 
tures which  were  as  much  mine  as  the  flesh  upon  my 
body. 

One  more  house  remained  for  me  to  visit,  that  in 
which  we  now  are.  I  had  let  it  (for  at  that  period  I 
lodged  in  a  hotel,  the  life  that  I  have  always  preferred) 
to  a  Colonel  Geraldine,  a  gentleman  attached  to  Prince 
Florizel  of  Bohemia,  whom  you  must  certainly  have 
heard  of ;  and  1  had  supposed,  from  the  character  and 
position  of  my  tenant,  that  here,  at  least,  I  was  safe 
against  annoyance.  What  was  my  surprise  to  find  this 
house  also  shuttered  and  apparently  deserted!  I  will 
not  deny  that  I  was  offended ;  I  conceived  that  a  house, 
like  a  yacht,  was  better  to  be  kept  in  commission ;  and 
I  promised  myself  to  bring  the  matter  before  my  solici- 
tor the  following  morning.     Meanwhile  the  sight  re- 

104 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

called  my  fancy  naturally  to  the  past;  and  yielding  to 
the  tender  influence  of  sentiment,  1  sat  down  opposite 
the  door  upon  the  garden  parapet.  It  was  August,  and 
a  sultry  afternoon,  but  that  spot  is  sheltered,  as  you  may 
observe  by  daylight,  under  the  branches  of  a  spreading 
chestnut;  the  square,  too,  was  deserted;  there  was  a 
sound  of  distant  music  in  the  air;  and  all  combined  to 
plunge  me  into  that  most  agreeable  of  states,  which  is 
neither  happiness  nor  sorrow,  but  shares  the  poignancy 
of  both. 

From  this  I  was  recalled  by  the  arrival  of  a  large  van, 
very  handsomely  appointed,  drawn  by  valuable  horses, 
mounted  by  several  men  of  an  appearance  more  than 
decent,  and  bearing  on  its  panels,  instead  of  a  trader's 
name,  a  coat-of-arms  too  modest  to  be  deciphered  from 
where  I  sat.  It  drew  up  before  my  house,  the  door  of 
which  was  immediately  opened  by  one  of  the  men. 
His  companions  —  I  counted  seven  of  them  in  all  —  pro- 
ceeded, with  disciplined  activity,  to  take  from  the  van 
and  carry  into  the  house  a  variety  of  hampers,  bottle- 
baskets,  and  boxes,  such  as  are  designed  for  plate  and 
napery.  The  windows  of  the  dining-room  were  thrown 
widely  open,  as  though  to  air  it;  and  I  saw  some  of 
those  within  laying  the  table  for  a  meal.  Plainly,  I 
concluded,  my  tenant  was  about  to  return ;  and  while 
still  determined  to  submit  to  no  aggression  on  my  rights, 
I  was  gratified  by  the  number  and  discipline  of  his  at- 
tendants, and  the  quiet  profusion  that  appeared  to  reign 
in  his  establishment.  I  was  still  so  thinking  when,  to 
my  extreme  surprise,  the  windows  and  shutters  of  the 
dining-room  were  once  more  closed;  the  men  began  to 
reappear  from  the  interior  and  resume  their  stations  on 

105 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

the  van;  the  last  closed  the  door  behind  his  exit;  the 
van  drove  away ;  and  the  house  was  once  more  left  to 
itself,  looking  blindly  on  the  square  with  shuttered  win- 
dows, as  though  the  whole  atfair  had  been  a  vision. 

It  was  no  vision,  however;  for,  as  I  rose  to  my  feet 
and  thus  brought  my  eyes  a  little  nearer  to  the  level  of 
the  fanlight  over  the  door,  I  saw  that,  though  the  day 
had  still  some  hours  to  run,  the  hall  lamps  had  been 
lighted  and  left  burning.  Plainly,  then,  guests  were 
expected,  and  not  expected  before  night.  For  whom, 
I  asked  myself  with  indignation,  were  such  secret  prep- 
arations likely  to  be  made  ?  Although  no  prude,  I  am 
a  woman  of  decided  views  upon  morality ;  if  my  house, 
to  which  my  husband  had  brought  me,  was  to  serve  in 
the  character  of  a  petite  maison,  I  saw  myself  forced, 
however  unwillingly,  into  a  new  course  of  litigation; 
and,  determined  to  return  and  know  the  worst,  I  has- 
tened to  my  hotel  for  dinner. 

1  was  at  my  post  by  ten.  The  night  was  clear  and 
quiet;  the  moon  rode  very  high  and  put  the  lamps  to 
shame ;  and  the  shadow  below  the  chestnut  was  black 
as  ink.  Here,  then,  I  ensconced  myself  on  the  low  par- 
apet, with  my  back  against  the  railings,  face  to  face 
with  the  moonlit  front  of  my  old  home,  and  ruminating 
gently  on  the  past.  Time  fled ;  eleven  struck  on  all  the 
city  clocks ;  and  presently  after  I  was  aware  of  the  ap- 
proach of  a  gentleman  of  stately  and  agreeable  demean- 
our. He  was  smoking  as  he  walked ;  his  light  paletot, 
which  was  open,  did  not  conceal  his  evening  clothes ; 
and  he  bore  himself  with  a  serious  grace  that  immedi- 
ately awakened  my  attention.  Before  the  door  of  this 
house  he  took  a  pass-key  from  his  pocket,  quietly  ad- 

i«6 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

mitted  himself,  and  disappeared  into  the  lamplighted 
hall. 

He  was  scarcely  gone  when  I  observed  another  and  a 
much  younger  man  approaching  hastily  from  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  square.  Considering  the  season  of  the 
year  and  the  genial  mildness  of  the  night,  he  was  some- 
what closely  muffled  up ;  and  as  he  came,  for  all  his 
hurry,  he  kept  looking  nervously  behind  him.  Arrived 
before  my  door,  he  halted  and  set  one  foot  upon  the 
step,  as  though  about  to  enter;  then,  with  a  sudden 
change,  he  turned  and  began  to  hurry  away;  halted  a 
second  time,  as  if  in  painful  indecision ;  and  lastly,  with 
a  violent  gesture,  wheeled  about,  returned  straight  to 
the  door,  and  rapped  upon  the  knocker.  He  was  almost 
immediately  admitted  by  the  first  arrival. 

My  curiosity  was  now  broad  awake.  I  made  myself 
as  small  as  I  could  in  the  very  densest  of  the  shadow, 
and  waited  for  the  sequel.  Nor  had  1  long  to  wait. 
From  the  same  side  of  the  square  a  second  young  man 
made  his  appearance,  walking  slowly  and  softly,  and 
like  the  first,  mufifled  to  the  nose.  Before  the  house  he 
paused ;  looked  all  about  him  with  a  swift  and  compre- 
hensive glance;  and  seeing  the  square  lie  empty  in  the 
moon  and  lamplight,  leaned  far  across  the  area  railings 
and  appeared  to  listen  to  what  was  passing  in  the  house. 
From  the  dining-room  there  came  the  report  of  a  cham- 
pagne cork,  and  following  upon  that,  the  sound  of  rich 
and  manly  laughter.  The  listener  took  heart  of  grace, 
produced  a  key,  unlocked  the  area  gate,  shut  it  noise- 
lessly behind  him,  and  descended  the  stair.  Just  when 
his  head  had  reached  the  level  of  the  pavement,  he 
turned  half  round  and  once  more  raked  the  square  with 

107 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

a  suspicious  eyeshot.  The  mufflings  had  fallen  lower 
round  his  neck;  the  moon  shone  full  upon  him;  and  I 
was  startled  to  observe  the  pallor  and  passionate  agita- 
tion of  his  face. 

I  could  remain  no  longer  passive.  Persuaded  that 
something  deadly  was  afoot,  I  crossed  the  roadway  and 
drew  near  the  area  railings.  There  was  no  one  below ; 
the  man  must  therefore  have  entered  the  house,  with 
what  purpose  I  dreaded  to  imagine.  I  have  at  no  part 
of  my  career  lacked  courage;  and  now,  finding  the 
area  gate  was  merely  laid  to,  I  pushed  it  gently  open 
and  descended  the  stairs.  The  kitchen  door  of  the 
house,  like  the  area  gate,  was  closed  but  not  fastened. 
It  flashed  upon  me  that  the  criminal  was  thus  preparing 
his  escape ;  and  the  thought,  as  it  confirmed  the  worst 
of  my  suspicions,  lent  me  new  resolve.  I  entered  the 
house ;  and  being  now  quite  reckless  of  my  life,  I  shut 
and  locked  the  door. 

From  the  dining-room  above  I  could  hear  the  pleas- 
ant tones  of  a  voice  in  easy  conversation.  On  the  ground 
floor  all  was  not  only  profoundly  silent,  but  the  darkness 
seemed  to  weigh  upon  my  eyes.  Here,  then,  I  stood 
for  some  time,  having  thrust  myself  uncalled  into  the 
utmost  peril,  and  being  destitute  of  any  power  to  help 
or  interfere.  Nor  will  I  deny  that  fear  had  begun  already 
to  assail  me,  when  I  became  aware,  all  at  once  and 
as  though  by  some  immediate  but  silent  incandes- 
cence, of  a  certain  glimmering  of  light  upon  the  passage 
floor.  Toward  this  I  groped  my  way  with  infinite  pre- 
caution ;  and  having  come  at  length  as  far  as  the  angle 
of  the  corridor,  beheld  the  door  of  the  butler's  pantry 
standing  just  ajar  and  a  narrow  thread  of  brightness 

io8 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD  LADY 

falling  from  the  chink.  Creeping  still  closer,  I  put  my 
eyes  to  the  aperture.  The  man  sat  within  upon  a  chair, 
listening,  I  could  see,  with  the  most  rapt  attention.  On 
a  table  before  him  he  had  laid  a  watch,  a  pair  of  steel 
revolvers,  and  a  bull's-eye  lantern.  For  one  second 
many  contradictory  theories  and  projects  whirled  to- 
gether in  my  head;  the  next,  I  had  slammed  the  door 
and  turned  the  key  upon  the  malefactor.  Surprised  at 
my  own  decision,  1  stood  and  panted,  leaning  on  the 
wall.  From  within  the  pantry  not  a  sound  was  to  be 
heard;  the  man,  whatever  he  was,  had  accepted  his 
fate  without  a  struggle,  and  now,  as  I  hugged  myself 
to  fancy,  sat  frozen  with  terror  and  looking  for  the 
worst  to  follow.  I  promised  myself  that  he  should  not 
be  disappointed;  and  the  better  to  complete  my  task,  I 
turned  to  ascend  the  stairs. 

The  situation,  as  I  groped  my  way  to  the  first  floor, 
appealed  to  me  suddenly  by  my  strong  sense  of  humour. 
Here  was  I,  the  owner  of  the  house,  burglariously  pres- 
ent in  its  walls ;  and  there,  in  the  dining-room,  were 
two  gentlemen,  unknown  to  me,  seated  complacently  at 
supper,  and  only  saved  by  my  promptitude  from  some 
surprising  or  deadly  interruption.  It  were  strange  if  I 
could  not  manage  to  extract  the  matter  of  amusement 
from  so  unusual  a  situation. 

Behind  this  dining-room,  there  is  a  small  apartment 
intended  for  a  library.  It  was  to  this  that  I  cautiously 
groped  my  way;  and  you  will  see  how  fortune  had 
exactly  served  me.  The  weather,  I  have  said,  was  sul- 
try :  in  order  to  ventilate  the  dining-room  and  yet  pre- 
serve the  uninhabited  appearance  of  the  mansion  to  the 
front,  the  window  of  the  library  had  been  widely  opened 

109 


MORE   NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

and  the  door  of  communication  between  the  two  apart- 
ments left  ajar.     To  this  interval  I  now  applied  my  eye. 

Wax  tapers,  set  in  silver  candlesticks,  shed  their 
chastened  brightness  on  the  damask  of  the  tablecloth 
and  the  remains  of  a  cold  collation  of  the  rarest  delicacy. 
The  two  gentlemen  had  finished  supper,  and  were  now 
trifling  with  cigars  and  maraschino;  while  in  a  silver 
spirit  lamp,  coffee  of  the  most  captivating  fragrance  was 
preparing  in  the  fashion  of  the  East.  The  elder  of  the 
two,  he  who  had  first  arrived,  was  placed  directly  fac- 
ing me ;  the  other  was  set  on  his  left  hand.  Both,  like 
the  man  in  the  butler's  pantry,  seemed  to  be  intently 
listening;  and  on  the  face  of  the  second  1  thought  I 
could  perceive  the  marks  of  fear.  Oddly  enough,  how- 
ever, when  they  came  to  speak,  the  parts  were  found 
to  be  reversed. 

'*1  assure  you,"  said  the  elder  gentleman,  ''I  not 
only  heard  the  slamming  of  a  door,  but  the  sound  of 
very  guarded  footsteps." 

'*  Your  highness  was  certainly  deceived,"  replied  the 
other.  "  I  am  endowed  with  the  acutest  hearing,  and 
1  can  swear  that  not  a  mouse  has  rustled."  Yet  the 
pallor  and  contraction  of  his  features  were  in  total  dis- 
cord with  the  tenor  of  his  words. 

His  highness  (whom,  of  course,  I  readily  divined  to 
be  Prince  Florizel)  looked  at  his  companion  for  the  least 
fraction  of  a  second;  and  though  nothing  shook  the  easy 
quiet  of  his  attitude,  I  could  see  that  he  was  far  from 
being  duped.  * '  It  is  well, "  said  he ;  * '  let  us  dismiss  the 
topic.  And  now,  sir,  that  I  have  very  freely  explained 
the  sentiments  by  which  I  am  directed,  let  me  ask  you, 
according  to  your  promise,  to  imitate  my  frankness." 

I  lO 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD   LADY 

'M  have  heard  you,"  replied  the  other,  "with  great 
interest." 

"With  singular  patience,"  said  the  prince  politely. 

"Ay,  your  highness,  and  with  unlooked-for  sympa- 
thy, "  returned  the  young  man.  *  *  I  know  not  how  to  tell 
the  change  that  has  befallen  me.  You  have,  I  must 
suppose,  a  charm,  to  which  even  your  enemies  are  sub- 
ject." He  looked  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  and 
visibly  blanched.  "  So  late  ! "  he  cried.  "  Your  high- 
ness —  God  knows  I  am  speaking  from  the  heart  —  be- 
fore it  be  too  late,  leave  this  house  ! " 

The  prince  glanced  once  more  at  his  companion,  and 
then  very  deliberately  shook  the  ash  from  his  cigar. 
"That  is  a  strange  remark,"  said  he;  "and  apropos  de 
bottes,  I  never  continue  a  cigar  when  once  the  ash  is 
fallen;  the  spell  breaks,  the  soul  of  the  flavour  flies 
away,  and  there  remains  but  the  dead  body  of  tobacco ; 
and  I  make  it  a  rule  to  throw  away  that  husk  and  choose 
another."    He  suited  the  action  to  the  words. 

"Do  not  trifle  with  my  appeal,"  resumed  the  young 
man  in  tones  that  trembled  with  emotion.  "  It  is  made 
at  the  price  of  my  honour  and  to  the  peril  of  my  life. 
Go — go  now!  lose  not  a  moment;  and  if  you  have  any 
kindness  for  a  young  man,  miserably  deceived  indeed, 
but  not  devoid  of  better  sentiments,  look  not  behind 
you  as  you  leave." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  prince,  "  I  am  here  upon  your  honour; 
I  assure  you  upon  mine  that  I  shall  continue  to  rely  up- 
on that  safeguard.  The  coffee  is  ready;  I  must  again 
trouble  you,  I  fear."  And  with  a  courteous  movement 
of  the  hand,  he  seemed  to  invite  his  companion  to  pour 
out  the  coffee. 

Ill 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

The  unhappy  young  man  rose  from  his  seat.  "  I  ap- 
peal to  you,"  he  cried,  *'by  every  holy  sentiment,  in 
mercy  to  me,  if  not  in  pity  to  yourself,  begone  before 
it  is  too  late." 

''Sir,"  replied  the  prince,  "I  am  not  readily  accessi- 
ble to  fear;  and  if  there  is  one  defect  to  which  I  must 
plead  guilty,  it  is  that  of  a  curious  disposition.  You  go 
the  wrong  way  about  to  make  me  leave  this  house,  in 
which  1  play  the  part  of  your  entertainer;  and,  suffer  me 
to  add,  young  man,  if  any  peril  threaten  us,  it  was  of 
your  contriving,  not  of  mine." 

*'  Alas,  you  do  not  know  to  what  you  condemn  me," 
cried  the  other.  * '  But  I  at  least  will  have  no  hand  in  it. " 
With  these  words  he  carried  his  hand  to  his  pocket, 
hastily  swallowed  the  contents  of  a  phial,  and,  with  the 
very  act,  reeled  back  and  fell  across  his  chair  upon  the 
floor.  The  prince  left  his  place  and  came  and  stood 
above  him,  where  he  lay  convulsed  upon  the  carpet. 
*'  Poor  moth ! "  I  heard  his  highness  murmur.  "  Alas, 
poor  moth  !  must  we  again  inquire  which  is  the  more 
fatal  — weakness  or  wickedness  ?  And  can  a  sympathy 
with  ideas,  surely  not  ignoble  in  themselves,  conduct  a 
man  to  this  dishonourable  death  ?  " 

By  this  time  I  had  pushed  the  door  open  and  walked 
into  the  room.  '  *  Your  highness, "  said  I,  '  *  this  is  no  time 
for  moralising;  with  a  little  promptness  we  may  save 
this  creature's  life ;  and  as  for  the  other,  he  need  cause 
you  no  concern,  for  I  have  him  safely  under  lock  and 
key." 

The  prince  had  turned  about  upon  my  entrance,  and 
regarded  me  certainly  with  no  alarm,  but  with  a  pro- 
fundity of  wonder  which  almost  robbed  me  of  my  self- 

112 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

possession.  *'  My  dear  madam,"  he  cried  at  last,  '*  and 
who  the  devil  are  you?" 

I  was  already  on  the  floor  beside  the  dying  man.  I 
had,  of  course,  no  idea  with  what  drug  he  had  attempted 
his  life,  and  I  was  forced  to  try  him  with  a  variety  of 
antidotes.  Here  were  both  oil  and  vinegar,  for  the 
prince  had  done  the  young  man  the  honour  of  compound- 
ing for  him  one  of  his  celebrated  salads ;  and  of  each  of 
these  I  administered  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  pint,  with 
no  apparent  efficacy.  I  next  plied  him  with  the  hot 
coffee,  of  which  there  may  have  been  near  upon  a 
quart. 

'*  Have  you  no  milk  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"I  fear,  madam,  that  milk  has  been  omitted,"  re- 
turned the  prince. 

**Salt,  then,"  said  I;  **salt  is  a  revulsive.  Pass  the 
salt." 

*'And  possibly  the  mustard?"  asked  his  highness, 
as  he  offered  me  the  contents  of  the  various  salt-cellars 
poured  together  on  a  plate. 

"Ah!"  cried  1,  *'the  thought  is  excellent!  Mix  me 
about  half  a  pint  of  mustard,  drinkably  dilute." 

Whether  it  was  the  salt  or  the  mustard,  or  the  mere 
combination  of  so  many  subversive  agents,  as  soon  as 
the  last  had  been  poured  over  his  throat,  the  young  suf- 
ferer obtained  relief 

**  There! "  I  exclaimed,  with  natural  triumph,  **I  have 
saved  a  life!" 

'*And  yet,  madam,"  returned  the  prince,  *'your 
mercy  may  be  cruelty  disguised.  Where  the  honour  is 
lost,  it  is,  at  least,  superfluous  to  prolong  the  life." 

*'If  you  had  led  a  life  as  changeable  as  mine,  your 

H3 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

highness,"  I  replied,  *'you  would  hold  a  very  different 
opinion.  For  my  part,  and  after  whatever  extremity  of 
misfortune  or  disgrace,  I  should  still  count  to-morrow 
worth  a  trial." 

''You  speak  as  a  lady,  madam,"  said  the  prince; 
* '  and  for  such  you  speak  the  truth.  But  to  men  there 
is  permitted  such  a  field  of  license,  and  the  good  be- 
haviour asked  of  them  is  at  once  so  easy  and  so  little, 
that  to  fail  in  that  is  to  fall  beyond  the  reach  of  pardon. 
But  will  you  suffer  me  to  repeat  a  question,  put  to  you 
at  first,  I  am  afraid,  with  some  defect  of  courtesy ;  and 
to  ask  you  once  more,  who  you  are  and  how  I  have  the 
honour  of  your  company  ?  " 

"  1  am  the  proprietor  of  the  house  in  which  we  stand," 
said  I. 

''And  still  I  am  at  fault,"  returned  the  prince. 

But  at  that  moment  the  timepiece  on  the  mantel-shelf 
began  to  strike  the  hour  of  twelve ;  and  the  young  man, 
raising  himself  upon  one  elbow,  with  an  expression  of 
despair  and  horror  that  I  have  never  seen  excelled,  cried 
lamentably:  "Midnight?  O  just  God."  We  stood 
frozen  to  our  places,  while  the  tingling  hammer  of  the 
timepiece  measured  the  remaining  strokes;  nor  had  we 
yet  stirred,  so  tragic  had  been  the  tones  of  the  young 
man,  when  the  various  bells  of  London  began  in  turn 
to  declare  the  hour.  The  timepiece  was  inaudible  be- 
yond the  walls  of  the  chamber  where  we  stood ;  but  the 
second  pulsation  of  Big  Ben  had  scarcely  throbbed  into 
the  night,  before  a  sharp  detonation  rang  about  the 
house.  The  prince  sprang  for  the  door  by  which  I  had 
entered ;  but  quick  as  he  was,  I  yet  contrived  to  inter- 
cept him. 

114 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD   LADY 

"Are  you  armed?"  I  cried. 

*'No,  madam,"  replied  he.  **You  remind  me  ap- 
positely; I  will  take  the  poker." 

"The  man  below,"  said  I,  "has  two  revolvers. 
Would  you  confront  him  at  such  odds  ?" 

He  paused,  as  though  staggered  in  his  purpose. 
"And  yet,  madam,"  said  he,  "we  cannot  continue  to 
remain  in  ignorance  of  what  has  passed." 

"No!"  cried  I.  "And  who  proposes  it.?  I  am  as 
curious  as  yourself,  but  let  us  rather  send  for  the  police; 
or,  if  your  highness  dreads  a  scandal,  for  some  of  your 
own  servants." 

"Nay,  madam,"  he  replied,  smiling,  "for  so  brave  a 
lady,  you  surprise  me.  Would  you  have  me,  then, 
send  others  where  I  fear  to  go  myself.?" 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,"  said  I,  "and  1  was  entirely 
wrong.   Go,  in  God's  name,  and  I  will  hold  the  candle ! " 

Together,  therefore,  we  descended  to  the  lower  story, 
he  carrying  the  poker,  I  the  light;  and  together  we  ap- 
proached and  opened  the  door  of  the  butler's  pantry. 
In  some  sort,  I  believe,  I  was  prepared  for  the  spectacle 
that  met  our  eyes ;  I  was  prepared,  that  is,  to  find  the 
villain  dead,  but  the  rude  details  of  such  a  violent  suicide 
1  was  unable  to  endure.  The  prince,  unshaken  by  hor- 
ror as  he  had  remained  unshaken  by  alarm,  assisted  me 
with  the  most  respectful  gallantry  to  regain  the  dining- 
room. 

There  we  found  our  patient,  still,  indeed,  deadly  pale, 
but  vastly  recovered  and  already  seated  on  a  chair.  He 
held  out  both  his  hands  with  a  most  pitiful  gesture  of  in- 
terrogation. 

"He  is  dead,"  said  the  prince. 
»»5 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"  Alas! "  cried  the  young  man,  *'and  it  should  be  I! 
What  do  I  do,  thus  lingering  on  the  stage  I  have  dis- 
graced, while  he,  my  sure  comrade,  blameworthy  in- 
deed for  much,  but  yet  the  soul  of  fidelity,  has  judged 
and  slain  himself  for  an  involuntary  fault?  Ah,  sir," 
said  he,  *'and  you  too,  madam,  without  whose  cruel 
help  I  should  be  now  beyond  the  reach  of  my  accusing 
conscience,  you  behold  in  me  the  victim  equally  of  my 
own  faults  and  virtues.  1  was  born  a  hater  of  injustice  ; 
from  my  most  tender  years  my  blood  boiled  against 
heaven  when  I  beheld  the  sick,  and  against  men  when 
I  witnessed  the  sorrows  of  the  poor;  the  pauper's  crust 
stuck  in  my  throat  when  I  sat  down  to  eat  my  dainties, 
and  the  crippled  child  has  set  me  weeping.  What  was 
there  in  that,  but  what  was  noble  ?  and  yet  observe  to 
what  a  fall  these  thoughts  have  led  me !  Year  after  year 
this  passion  for  the  lost  besieged  me  closer.  What  hope 
was  there  in  kings  ?  what  hope  in  these  well-feathered 
classes  that  now  roll  in  money  ?  1  had  observed  the 
course  of  history ;  1  knew  the  burgess,  our  ruler  of  to- 
day, to  be  base,  cowardly  and  dull ;  1  saw  him,  in  every 
age,  combine  to  pull  down  that  which  was  immediately 
above  and  to  prey  upon  those  that  were  below;  his 
dullness,  1  knew,  would  ultimately  bring  about  his  ruin ; 
I  knew  his  days  were  numbered,  and  yet  how  was  I  to 
wait  ?  how  was  I  to  let  the  poor  child  shiver  in  the 
rain  ?  The  better  days,  indeed,  were  coming,  but  the 
child  would  die  before  that.  Alas,  your  highness,  in 
surely  no  ungenerous  impatience  I  enrolled  myself  among 
the  enemies  of  this  unjust  and  doomed  society;  in  surely 
no  unnatural  desire  to  keep  the  fires  of  my  philanthropy 
alight,  I  bound  myself  by  an  irrevocable  oath. 

ii6 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD   LADY 

"That  oath  is  all  my  history.  To  give  freedom  to 
posterity,  I  have  forsworn  my  ov^n.  I  must  attend 
upon  every  signal ;  and  soon  my  father  complained  of 
my  irregular  hours  and  turned  me  from  his  house.  [ 
was  engaged  in  betrothal  to  an  honest  girl;  from  hei 
also  I  had  to  part,  for  she  was  too  shrewd  to  credit  my 
inventions  and  too  innocent  to  be  intrusted  with  the 
truth.  Behold  me,  then,  alone  with  conspirators !  Alas  I 
as  the  years  went  on,  my  illusions  left  me.  Surrounded 
as  I  was  by  the  fervent  disciples  and  apologists  of  revo- 
lution, I  beheld  them  daily  advance  in  confidence  and 
desperation ;  I  beheld  myself,  upon  the  other  hand,  and 
with  an  almost  equal  regularity,  decline  in  faith.  I  had 
sacrificed  all  to  further  that  cause  in  which  I  still  be- 
lieved ;  and  daily  I  began  to  grow  in  doubts  if  we  were 
advancing  it  indeed.  Horrible  was  the  society  with 
which  we  warred,  but  our  own  means  were  not  less 
horrible. 

*'l  will  not  dwell  upon  my  sufferings;  I  will  not 
pause  to  tell  you  how,  when  I  beheld  young  men  still 
free  and  happy,  married,  fathers  of  children,  cheerfully 
toiling  at  their  work,  my  heart  reproached  me  with  the 
greatness  and  vanity  of  my  unhappy  sacrifice.  I  will 
not  describe  to  you  how,  worn  by  poverty,  poor  lodg- 
ing, scanty  food,  and  an  unquiet  conscience,  my  health 
began  to  fail,  and  in  the  long  nights,  as  I  wandered 
bedless  in  the  rainy  streets,  the  most  cruel  sufferings  of 
the  body  were  added  to  the  tortures  of  the  mind.  These 
things  are  not  personal  to  me ;  they  are  common  to  all 
unfortunates  in  my  position.  An  oath,  so  light  a  thing 
to  swear,  so  grave  a  thing  to  break :  an  oath,  taken  in 
the  heat  of  youth,  repented  with  what  sobbings  of  the 

117 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

heart,  but  yet  in  vain  repented,  as  the  years  go  on :  an 
oath,  that  was  once  the  very  utterance  of  the  truth  of 
God,  but  that  falls  to  be  the  symbol  of  a  meaningless 
and  empty  slavery ;  such  is  the  yoke  that  many  young 
men  joyfully  assume,  and  under  whose  dead  weight 
they  live  to  suffer  worse  than  death. 

*Mt  is  not  that  I  was  patient.  I  have  begged  to  be  re- 
leased ;  but  I  knew  too  much,  and  was  still  refused.  I 
have  fled ;  ay,  and  for  the  time  successfully.  I  reached 
Paris.  I  found  a  lodging  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques,  almost 
opposite  the  Val  de  Grace.  My  room  was  mean  and 
bare,  but  the  sun  looked  into  it  toward  evening :  it  com- 
manded a  peep  of  a  green  garden;  a  bird  hung  by  a 
neighbour's  window  and  made  the  morning  beautiful ; 
and  I,  who  was  sick,  might  lie  in  bed  and  rest  myself: 
I  who  was  in  full  revolt  against  the  principles  that  I  had 
served,  and  was  no  longer  at  the  beck  of  the  council, 
and  was  no  longer  charged  with  shameful  and  revolt- 
ing tasks.  Oh!  what  an  interval  of  peace  was  that!  I 
still  dream  at  times  that  I  can  hear  the  note  of  my  neigh- 
bour's bird. 

**My  money  was  running  out,  and  it  became  neces- 
sary that  I  should  find  employment.  Scarcely  had  ! 
been  three  days  upon  the  search,  ere  I  thought  that  I 
was  being  followed.  I  made  certain  of  the  features  of 
the  man,  which  were  quite  strange  to  me,  and  turned 
into  a  small  cafe,  where  I  whiled  away  an  hour,  pre- 
tending to  read  the  papers,  but  inwardly  convulsed  with 
terror.  When  I  came  forth  into  the  street,  it  was  quite 
empty,  and  1  breathed  again ;  but  alas,  I  had  not  turned 
three  corners,  when  I  once  more  observed  the  human 
hound  pursuing  me.     Not  an  hour  was  to  be  lost ;  timely 

ii8 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED   OLD  LADY 

submission  might  yet  preserve  a  life  which  otherwise 
was  forfeited  and  dishonoured;  and  I  fled  with  what 
speed  you  may  conceive,  to  the  Paris  agency  of  the  so- 
ciety I  served. 

*'  My  submission  was  accepted.  I  took  up  once  more 
the  hated  burden  of  that  life ;  once  more  I  was  at  the 
call  of  men  whom  I  despised  and  hated,  while  yet  I 
envied  and  admired  them.  They  were  whole-hearted 
in  the  things  they  proposed ;  but  I,  who  had  once  been 
such  as  they,  had  fallen  from  the  brightness  of  my  faith, 
and  now  laboured,  like  a  hireling,  for  the  wages  of  a 
loathed  existence.  Ay,  sir,  to  that  I  was  condemned ; 
1  obeyed  to  continue  to  live,  and  lived  but  to  obey. 

'*The  last  charge  that  was  laid  upon  me  was  the  one 
which  has  to-night  so  tragically  ended.  Boldly  telling 
who  1  was,  I  was  to  request  from  your  highness,  on 
behalf  of  my  society,  a  private  audience,  where  it  was 
designed  to  murder  you.  If  one  thing  remained  to  me 
of  my  old  convictions,  it  was  the  hate  of  kings;  and 
when  this  task  was  offered  me,  I  took  it  gladly.  Alas, 
sir,  you  triumphed.  As  we  supped,  you  gained  upon 
my  heart.  Your  character,  your  talents,  your  designs 
for  our  unhappy  country,  all  had  been  misrepresented. 
1  began  to  forget  you  were  a  prince;  I  began,  all  too 
feelingly,  to  remember  that  you  were  a  man.  As  I  saw 
the  hour  approach,  I  suffered  agonies  untold ;  and  when, 
at  last,  we  heard  the  slamming  of  the  door  which  an- 
nounced in  my  unwilling  ears  the  arrival  of  the  partner 
of  my  crime,  you  will  bear  me  out  with  what  instancy 
I  besought  you  to  depart.  You  would  not,  alas!  and 
what  could  I?  Kill  you,  I  could  not;  my  heart  re- 
volted, my  hand  turned  back  from  such  a  deed.     Yet 

119 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

it  was  impossible  that  I  should  suffer  you  to  stay ;  fof 
when  the  hour  struck  and  my  companion  came,  true  to 
appointment,  and  he,  at  least  true  to  design,  I  could 
neither  suffer  you  to  be  killed  nor  yet  him  to  be  arrested. 
From  such  a  tragic  passage,  death,  and  death  alone 
could  save  me ;  and  it  is  no  fault  of  mine  if  I  continue 
to  exist. 

'*But  you,  madam,"  continued  the  young  man,  ad- 
dressing himself  more  directly  to  myself,  "  were  doubt- 
less bom  to  save  the  prince  and  to  confound  our  pur- 
poses. My  life  you  have  prolonged;  and  by  turning 
the  key  on  my  companion,  you  have  made  me  the  au- 
thor of  his  death.  He  heard  the  hour  strike;  he  was 
impotent  to  help ;  and  thinking  himself  forfeit  to  honour, 
thinking  that  I  should  fall  alone  upon  his  highness  and 
perish  for  lack  of  his  support,  he  has  turned  his  pistol 
on  himself." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Prince  Florizel:  '*it  was  in  no 
ungenerous  spirit  that  you  brought  these  burdens  on 
yourself;  and  when  I  see  you  so  nobly  to  blame,  so 
tragically  punished,  I  stand  like  one  reproved.  For  is 
it  not  strange,  madam,  that  you  and  1,  by  practising 
accepted  and  inconsiderable  virtues,  and  commonplace 
but  still  unpardonable  faults,  should  stand  here,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  with  what  we  call  clean  hands  and  quiet 
consciences;  while  this  poor  youth,  for  an  error  that  I 
could  almost  envy  him,  should  be  sunk  beyond  the 
reach  of  hope  ? 

'*  Sir,"  resumed  the  prince,  turning  to  the  young  man, 
"I  cannot  help  you;  my  help  would  but  unchain  the 
thunderbolt  that  overhangs  you;  and  I  can  but  leave 
you  free." 

1 20 


NARRATIVE  OF  THE  SPIRITED  OLD   LADY 

*'And,  sir,"  said  I,  *'as  this  house  belongs  to  me,  I 
will  ask  you  to  have  the  kindness  to  remove  the  body. 
You  and  your  conspirators,  it  appears  to  me,  can  hardly 
in  civility  do  less." 

"  It  shall  be  done,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a  dis- 
mal accent. 

"And  you,  dear  madam,"  said  the  prince,  "you,  to 
whom  I  owe  my  life,  how  can  I  serve  you  ?  " 

"  Your  highness,"  I  said,  "  to  be  very  plain,  this  is  my 
favourite  house,  being  not  only  a  valuable  property,  but 
endeared  to  me  by  various  associations.  I  have  endless 
troubles  with  tenants  of  the  ordinary  class ;  and  at  first 
applauded  my  good  fortune  when  I  found  one  of  the 
station  of  your  Master  of  the  Horse.  I  now  begin  to 
think  otherwise:  dangers  set  a  siege  about  great  per- 
sonages ;  and  I  do  not  wish  my  tenement  to  share  these 
risks.  Procure  me  the  resiliation  of  the  lease,  and  I 
shall  feel  myself  your  debtor." 

"I  must  tell  you,  madam,"  replied  his  highness, 
"that  Colonel  Geraldine  is  but  a  cloak  for  myself;  and 
I  should  be  sorry  indeed  to  think  myself  so  unaccepta- 
ble a  tenant." 

"  Your  highness,"  said  I,  "  1  have  conceived  a  sincere 
admiration  for  your  character;  but  on  the  subject  of 
house  property,  I  can  not  allow  the  interference  of  my 
feelings.  I  will,  however,  to  prove  to  you  that  there  is 
nothing  personal  in  my  request,  here  solemnly  engage 
my  word  that  I  will  never  put  another  tenant  in  this 
house." 

"Madam,"  said  Florizel,  "you  plead  your  cause  too 
charmingly  to  be  refused." 

Thereupon  we  all  three  withdrew.     The  young  man, 

121 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Still  reeling  in  his  walk,  departed  by  himself  to  seek  the 
assistance  of  his  fellow  conspirators;  and  the  prince, 
with  the  most  attentive  gallantry,  lent  me  his  escort  to 
the  door  of  my  hotel.  The  next  day,  the  lease  was 
canceled ;  nor  from  that  hour  to  this,  though  sometimes 
regretting  my  engagement,  have  I  suffered  a  tenant  in 
this  house. 


Udk 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

(Concluded) 

As  soon  as  the  old  lady  had  finished  h^  relation, 
Somerset  made  haste  to  offer  her  his  compliments. 

** Madam,"  said  he,  "your  story  is  not  only  enter- 
taining but  instructive ;  and  you  have  told  it  with  infi- 
nite vivacity.  I  was  much  affected  toward  the  end,  as 
I  held  at  one  time  very  liberal  opinions,  and  should  cer- 
tainly have  joined  a  secret  society  if  I  had  been  able  to 
find  one.  But  the  whole  tale  came  home  to  me ;  and  I 
was  the  better  able  to  feel  for  you  in  your  various  per- 
plexities, as  I  am  myself  of  somewhat  hasty  temper." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  Mrs.  Luxmore,  in  a 
very  high  key.  ''You  must  have  strangely  misinter- 
preted what  I  have  told  you.  You  must  be  a  singularly 
dense  young  man." 

Somerset,  seeing  no  probable  termination  to  the  lady's 
anger,  hurried  to  recant. 

**Dear  Mrs.  Luxmore,"  said  he,  ''you  certainly  mis- 
construe my  remark.  As  a  man  of  somewhat  fiery 
humour,  my  conscience  repeatedly  pricked  me  when  I 
heard  what  you  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  persons 
similarly  constituted." 

"Oh,  very  well  indeed,"  replied  the  old  lady;  "and 
a  very  proper  spirit.  I  regret  that  I  have  met  with  it  so 
rarely." 

123 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

*'But  in  all  this,"  resumed  the  young  man,  '*I  per- 
ceive nothing  that  concerns  myself." 

**  I  am  about  to  come  to  that,"  she  returned.  "And 
you  have  already  before  you,  in  the  pledge  I  gave  Prince 
Florizel,  one  of  the  elements  of  the  affair.  I  am  a  wo- 
man of  the  nomadic  sort,  and  when  I  have  no  case  be- 
fore the  courts  I  make  it  a  habit  to  visit  the  continental 
spas:  not  that  I  have  ever  been  ill,  but  then  I  am  no 
longer  young,  and  I  am  always  happy  in  a  crowd. 
Well,  to  come  more  shortly  to  the  point,  I  am  now  on 
the  wing  for  Evian ;  this  incubus  of  a  house,  which  I 
must  leave  behind  and  dare  not  let,  hangs  heavily  upon 
my  hands ;  and  I  propose  to  rid  myself  of  that  concern, 
and  do  you  a  very  good  turn  into  the  bargain,  by  lend- 
ing you  the  mansion,  with  all  its  fittings,  as  it  stands. 
The  idea  was  sudden;  it  appealed  to  me  as  humorous; 
and  I  am  sure  it  will  cause  my  relatives,  if  they  should 
ever  hear  of  it,  the  keenest  possible  chagrin.  Here, 
then,  is  the  key,  and  when  you  return  at  two  to-mor- 
row afternoon,  you  will  find  neither  me  nor  my  cats  to 
disturb  you  in  your  new  possession." 

So  saying,  the  old  lady  arose,  as  if  to  dismiss  her  vis- 
itor, but  Somerset,  looking  somewhat  blankly  on  the 
key,  began  to  protest. 

**Dear  Mrs.  Luxmore,"  said  he,  *'this  is  a  most  un- 
usual proposal.  You  know  nothing  of  me,  beyond  the 
fact  that  I  displayed  both  impudence  and  timidity.  I 
may  be  the  worst  kind  of  scoundrel;  I  may  sell  your 
furniture " 

"You  may  blow  up  the  house  with  gunpowder  for 
what  I  care!"  cried  Mrs.  Luxmore.  "It  is  in  vain  to 
reason.     Such  is  the  force  of  my  character  that,  when  I 

124 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

have  one  idea  clearly  in  my  head,  I  do  not  care  two  straws 
for  any  side  consideration.  It  amuses  me  to  do  it,  and 
let  that  suffice.  On  your  side,  you  may  do  what  you 
please  —  let  apartments,  or  keep  a  private  hotel;  on 
my  part,  I  promise  you  a  full  month's  warning  before 
I  return,  and  I  never  fail  religiously  to  keep  my  prom- 
ises." 

The  young  man  was  about  to  renew  his  protest, 
when  he  observed  a  sudden  and  significant  change  in 
the  old  lady's  countenance. 

"If  I  thought  you  capable  of  disrespect!  "  she  cried. 

'*  Madam,"  said  Somerset,  with  the  extreme  fervour 
of  asseveration,  '*  madam,  I  accept.  I  beg  you  to  un- 
derstand that  I  accept  with  joy  and  gratitude." 

**Ah,  well,"  returned  Mrs.  Luxmore,  **if  I  am  mis- 
taken, let  it  pass.  And  now,  since  all  is  comfortably 
settled,  I  wish  you  a  good-night." 

Thereupon,  as  if  to  leave  him  no  room  for  repent- 
ance she  hurried  Somerset  out  of  the  front  door,  and 
left  him  standing,  key  in  hand,  upon  the  pavement. 

The  next  day,  about  the  hour  appointed,  the  young 
man  found  his  way  to  the  Square,  which  I  will  here 
call  Golden  Square,  though  that  was  not  its  name. 
What  to  expect,  he  knew  not ;  for  a  man  may  live  in 
dreams,  and  yet  be  unprepared  for  their  realisation.  It 
was  already  with  a  certain  pang  of  surprise  that  he  be- 
held the  mansion,  standing  in  the  eye  of  day,  a  solid 
among  solids.  The  key,  upon  trial,  readily  opened  the 
front  door;  he  entered  that  great  house,  a  privileged 
burglar;  and  escorted  by  the  echoes  of  desertion,  rap- 
idly reviewed  the  empty  chambers.  Cats,  servant,  old 
lady,  the  very  marks  of  habitation,  like  writing  on  a 

125 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

slate,  had  been  in  these  few  hours  obliterated.  He 
wandered  from  floor  to  floor,  and  found  the  house  of 
great  extent;  the  kitchen  offices  commodious  and  well- 
appointed;  the  rooms  many  and  large;  and  the  draw- 
ing-room, in  particular,  an  apartment  of  princely  size 
and  tasteful  decoration.  Although  the  day  without 
was  warm,  genial  and  sunny,  with  a  ruffling  wind 
from  the  quarter  of  Torquay,  a  chill,  as  it  were,  of 
suspended  animation,  inhabited  the  house.  Dust  and 
shadows  met  the  eye;  and  but  for  the  ominous  pro- 
cession of  the  echoes,  and  the  rumour  of  the  wind 
among  the  garden  trees,  the  ear  of  the  young  man  was 
stretched  in  vain. 

Behind  the  dining-room,  that  pleasant  library,  referred 
to  by  the  old  lady  in  her  tale,  looked  upon  the  flat  roofs 
and  netted  cupolas  of  the  kitchen  quarters,  and  on  a 
second  visit  this  room  appeared  to  greet  him  with  a 
smiling  countenance.  He  might  as  well,  he  thought, 
avoid  the  expense  of  lodging :  the  library,  fitted  with  an 
iron  bedstead  which  he  had  remarked  in  one  of  the  upper 
chambers,  would  serve  his  purpose  for  the  night;  while 
in  the  dining-room,  which  was  large,  airy  and  light- 
some, looking  on  the  square  and  garden,  he  might  very 
agreeably  pass  his  days,  cook  his  meals,  and  study  to 
bring  himself  to  some  proficiency  in  that  art  of  painting 
which  he  had  recently  determined  to  adopt.  It  did  not 
take  him  long  to  make  the  change;  he  had  soon  re- 
turned to  the  mansion  with  his  modest  kit,  and  the  cab- 
man who  brought  him  was  readily  induced,  by  the 
young  man's  pleasant  manner  and  a  small  gratuity,  to 
assist  him  in  the  installation  of  the  iron  bed.  By  six  in 
the  evening,  when  Somerset  went  forth  to  dine,  he  was 

126 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

able  to  look  back  upon  the  mansion  with  a  sense  of 
pride  and  property.  Four-square  it  stood,  of  an  impos- 
ing frontage,  and  flanked  on  either  side  by  family  hatch- 
ments. His  eye,  from  where  he  stood  whistling  in  the 
key,  with  his  back  to  the  garden  railings,  reposed  on 
every  feature  of  reality,  and  yet  his  own  possession 
seemed  as  flimsy  as  a  dream. 

In  the  course  of  a  few  days  the  genteel  inhabitants  of 
the  square  began  to  remark  the  customs  of  their  neigh- 
bour. The  sight  of  a  young  gentleman  discussing  a 
clay  pipe  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  in  the  draw- 
ing-room balcony  of  so  discreet  a  mansion,  and  perhaps 
still  more,  his  periodical  excursion  to  a  decent  tavern  in 
the  neighbourhood,  and  his  unabashed  return,  nursing 
the  full  tankard,  had  presently  raised  to  a  high  pitch  the 
interest  and  indignation  of  the  liveried  servants  of  the 
square.  The  disfavour  of  some  of  these  gentlemen  at 
first  proceeded  to  the  length  of  insult;  but  Somerset 
knew  how  to  be  affable  with  any  class  of  men ;  and  a 
few  rude  words  merrily  accepted  and  a  few  glasses  ami- 
cably shared,  gained  for  him  the  right  of  toleration. 

The  young  man  had  embraced  the  art  of  Raphael, 
partly  from  a  notion  of  its  ease,  partly  from  an  inborn 
distrust  of  offices.  He  scorned  to  bear  the  yoke  of  any 
regular  schooling,  and  proceeded  to  turn  one  half  of  the 
dining-room  into  a  studio  for  the  reproduction  of  still 
life.  There  he  amassed  a  variety  of  objects,  indiscrim- 
inately chosen  from  the  kitchen,  the  drawing-room,  and 
the  back  garden,  and  there  spent  his  days  in  smiling 
assiduity.  Meantime,  the  great  bulk  of  empty  building 
overhead  lay  like  a  load  upon  his  imagination.  To  hold 
so  great  a  stake  and  to  do  nothing,  argued  some  defect 

127 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

of  energy,  and  he  at  length  determined  to  act  upon  the 
hint  given  by  Mrs.  Luxmore  herself,  and  to  stick  with 
wafers  in  the  window  of  the  dining-room  a  small  hand- 
bill announcing  furnished  lodgings.  At  half-past  six  of 
a  fine  July  morning  he  affixed  the  bill  and  went  forth 
into  the  square  to  study  the  result.  It  seemed,  to  his 
eye,  promising  and  unpretentious,  and  he  returned  to 
the  drawing-room  balcony  to  consider  over  a  studious 
pipe  the  knotty  problem  of  how  much  he  was  to  charge. 

Thereupon  he  somewhat  relaxed  in  his  devotion  to 
the  art  of  painting.  Indeed,  from  that  time  forth,  he 
would  spend  the  best  part  of  the  day  in  the  front  bal- 
cony, like  the  attentive  angler  poring  on  his  float ;  and 
the  better  to  support  the  tedium,  he  would  frequently 
console  himself  with  his  clay  pipe.  On  several  occa- 
sions passers-by  appeared  to  be  arrested  by  the  ticket, 
and  on  several  others  ladies  and  gentlemen  drove  to  the 
very  doorstep  by  the  carriageful ;  but  it  appeared  there 
was  something  repulsive  in  the  appearance  of  the  house, 
for  with  one  accord,  they  would  cast  but  one  look  up- 
ward and  hastily  resume  their  onward  progress  or  di- 
rect the  driver  to  proceed.  Somerset  had  thus  the  mor- 
tification of  actually  meeting  the  eye  of  a  large  number 
of  lodging-seekers;  and  though  he  hastened  to  with- 
draw his  pipe  and  to  compose  his  features  to  an  air  of 
invitation,  he  was  never  rewarded  by  so  much  as  an 
inquiry.  *'Can  there,"  he  thought,  "be  anything  re- 
pellent in  myself?"  But  a  candid  examination  in  one 
of  the  pier-glasses  of  the  drawing-room  led  him  to  dis- 
miss the  fear. 

Something,  however,  was  amiss.  His  vast  and  ac- 
curate calculations  on  the  fly-leaves  of  books,  or  on  the 

128 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

backs  of  playbills,  appeared  to  have  been  an  idle  sacri- 
fice of  time.  By  these,  he  had  variously  computed  the 
weekly  takings  of  the  house,  from  sums  as  modest  as 
five-and-twenty  shillings,  up  to  the  more  majestic  fig- 
ure of  a  hundred  pounds ;  and  yet,  in  despite  of  the 
very  elements  of  arithmetic,  here  he  was  making  liter- 
ally nothing. 

This  incongruity  impressed  him  deeply  and  occupied 
his  thoughtful  leisure  on  the  balcony;  and  at  last  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  detected  the  error  of  his 
method.  **This,"  he  reflected,  *'is  an  age  of  generous 
display:  the  age  of  the  sandwich-man,  of  Griffiths,  of 
Pears'  legendary  soap,  and  of  Eno's  fruit  salt,  which,  by 
sheer  brass  and  notoriety,  and  the  most  disgusting  pic- 
tures I  ever  remember  to  have  seen,  has  overlaid  that 
comforter  of  my  childhood,  Lamplough's  pyretic  saline. 
Lamplough  was  genteel,  Eno  was  omnipresent;  Lamp- 
lough  was  trite,  Eno  original  and  abominably  vulgar; 
and  here  have  I,  a  man  of  some  pretensions  to  knowledge 
of  the  world,  contented  myself  with  half  a  sheet  of  note- 
paper,  a  few  cold  words  which  do  not  directly  address 
the  imagination,  and  the  adornment  (if  adornment  it 
may  be  called)  of  four  red  wafers!  Am  I,  then,  to  sink 
with  Lamplough,  or  to  soar  with  Eno  ?  Am  I  to  adopt 
that  modesty  which  is  doubtless  becoming  in  a  duke  ? 
or  to  take  hold  of  the  red  facts  of  life  with  the  empha- 
sis of  the  tradesman  and  the  poet?" 

Pursuant  upon  these  meditations,  he  procured  sev- 
eral sheets  of  the  very  largest  size  of  drawing-paper;  and 
laying  forth  his  paints,  proceeded  to  compose  an  ensign 
that  might  attract  the  eye  and  at  the  same  time,  in  his 
own  phrase,  directly  address  the  imagination  of  the  pas- 

139 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

senger.  Something  taking  in  the  way  of  colour,  a  good, 
savoury  choice  of  words,  and  a  realistic  design  setting 
forth  the  life  a  lodger  might  expect  to  lead  within  the 
walls  of  that  palace  of  delight:  these,  he  perceived,  must 
be  the  elements  of  his  advertisement.  It  was  possible, 
upon  the  one  hand,  to  depict  the  sober  pleasures  of  do- 
mestic life,  the  evening  fire,  blonde-headed  urchins  and 
the  hissing  urn ;  but  on  the  other,  it  was  possible  (and 
he  almost  felt  as  if  it  were  more  suited  to  his  muse)  to 
set  forth  the  charms  of  an  existence  somewhat  wider  in 
its  range,  or,  boldly  say,  the  paradise  of  the  Moham- 
medan. So  long  did  the  artist  waver  between  these  two 
views,  that,  before  he  arrived  at  a  conclusion,  he  had 
finally  conceived  and  completed  both  designs.  With 
the  proverbially  tender  heart  of  the  parent,  he  found  him- 
self unable  to  sacrifice  either  of  these  offspring  of  his  art ; 
and  decided  to  expose  them  on  alternate  days.  *'  In 
this  way,"  he  thought,  ''I  shall  address  myself  indiffer- 
ently to  all  classes  of  the  world." 

The  tossing  of  a  penny  decided  the  only  remaining 
point;  and  the  more  imaginative  canvas  received  the  suf- 
frages of  fortune  and  appeared  first  in  the  window  of  the 
mansion.  It  was  of  a  high  fancy,  the  legend  eloquently 
writ,  the  scheme  of  colour  taking  and  bold ;  and  but  for 
the  imperfection  of  the  artist's  drawing,  it  might  have 
been  taken  for  a  model  of  its  kind.  As  it  was,  however, 
when  viewed  from  his  favourite  point  against  the  garden 
railings,  and  with  some  touch  of  distance,  it  caused  a 
pleasurable  rising  of  the  artist's  heart.  "  I  have  thrown 
away,"  he  ejaculated,  *' an  invaluable  motive;  and  this 
shall  be  the  subject  of  my  first  academy  picture. " 

The  fate  of  neither  of  these  works  was  equal  to  its 
130 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

merit.  A  crowd  would  certainly,  from  time  to  time, 
collect  before  the  area-railings;  but  they  came  to  jeer 
and  not  to  speculate ;  and  those  who  pushed  their  in- 
quiries further,  were  too  plainly  animated  by  the  spirit 
of  derision.  The  racier  of  the  two  cartoons  displayed, 
indeed,  no  symptom  of  attractive  merit;  and  though  it 
had  a  certain  share  of  that  success  called  scandalous, 
failed  utteriy  of  its  effect.  On  the  day,  however,  of  the 
second  appearance  of  the  companion  work,  a  real  in- 
quirer did  actually  present  himself  before  the  eyes  of 
Somerset. 

This  was  a  gentlemanly  man,  with  some  marks  of  re- 
cent merriment,  and  his  voice  under  inadequate  control. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he,  "but  what  is  the 
meaning  of  your  extraordinary  bill  ?" 

' '  I  beg  yours, "  returned  Somerset  hotly.  ' '  Its  mean- 
ing is  sufficiently  explicit."  And  being  now,  from  dire 
experience,  fearful  of  ridicule,  he  was  preparing  to  close 
the  door,  when  the  gentleman  thrust  his  cane  into  the 
aperture. 

'  *  Not  so  fast,  I  beg  of  you, "  said  he.  * '  If  you  really  let 
apartments,  here  is  a  possible  tenant  at  your  door;  and 
nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure  than  to  see  the 
accommodation  and  to  learn  your  terms." 

His  heart  joyously  beating,  Somerset  admitted  the 
visitor,  showed  him  over  the  various  apartments,  and 
with  some  return  of  his  persuasive  eloquence,  expounded 
their  attractions.  The  gentleman  was  particularly  pleased 
by  the  elegant  proportions  of  the  drawing-room. 

"This,"  he  said,  "  would  suit  me  very  well.  What, 
may  I  ask,  would  be  your  terms  a  week  for  this  floor 
and  the  one  above  it  ?" 

13« 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"I  was  thinking,"  returned  Somerset,  "of  a  hundred 
pounds." 

"  Surely  not,"  exclaimed  the  gentleman. 

"Well,  then,"  returned  Somerset,  "fifty." 

The  gentleman  regarded  him  with  an  air  of  some 
amazement.  "  You  seem  to  be  strangely  elastic  in  your 
demands,"  said  he.  "What  if  I  were  to  proceed  on 
your  own  principle  of  division,  and  offer  you  twenty- 
five.^" 

"Done!"  cried  Somerset;  and  then,  overcome  by  a 
sudden  embarrassment,  "You  see,"  he  added,  apolo- 
getically, "it  is  all  found  money  for  me." 

"Really.?"  said  the  stranger,  looking  at  him  all 
the  while  with  growing  wonder.  "Without  extras, 
then?" 

"I — I  suppose  so,"  stammered  the  keeper  of  the 
lodging-house. 

"  Service  included  ?"  pursued  the  gentleman. 

"Service?"  cried  Somerset.  "Do  you  mean  that 
you  expect  me  to  empty  your  slops  ?  " 

The  gentleman  regarded  him  with  a  very  friendly  in- 
terest. "My  dear  fellow,"  said  he,  "if  you  take  my 
advice,  you  will  give  up  this  business."  And  thereupon 
he  resumed  his  hat  and  took  himself  away. 

This  smarting  disappointment  produced  a  strong  ef- 
fect on  the  artist  of  the  cartoons ;  and  he  began  with 
shame  to  eat  up  his  rosier  illusions.  First  one  and  then 
the  other  of  his  great  works  was  condemned,  withdrawn 
from  exhibition,  and  relegated,  as  a  mere  wall-picture, 
to  the  decoration  of  the  dining-room.  Their  place  was 
taken  by  a  replica  of  the  original  wafered  announcement, 
to  which,  in  particularly  large  letters,  he  had  added  the 

132 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

pithy  rubric:  '"No  service/'  Meanwhile  he  had  fallen 
into  something  as  nearly  bordering  on  low  spirits  as  was 
consistent  with  his  disposition;  depressed,  at  once  by 
the  failure  of  his  scheme,  the  laughable  turn  of  his  late 
interview,  and  the  judicial  blindness  of  the  public  to  the 
merit  of  the  twin  cartoons. 

Perhaps  a  week  had  passed  before  he  was  again 
startled  by  the  note  of  the  knocker.  A  gentleman  of  a 
somewhat  foreign  and  somewhat  military  air,  yet  closely 
shaven  and  wearing  a  soft  hat,  desired  in  the  politest 
terms  to  visit  the  apartments.  He  had  (he  explained)  a 
friend,  a  gentleman  in  tender  health,  desirous  of  a  sedate 
and  solitary  life,  apart  from  interruption  and  the  noises 
of  the  common  lodging-house.  "  The  unusual  clause," 
he  continued,  '*in  your  announcement,  particularly 
struck  me.  'This,'  I  said,  Ms  the  place  for  Mr.  Jones.' 
You  are  yourself,  sir,  a  professional  gentleman  }  "  con- 
cluded the  visitor,  looking  keenly  in  Somerset's  face. 

'*!  am  an  artist,"  replied  the  young  man  lightly. 

*' And  these,"  observed  the  other,  taking  a  side  glance 
through  the  open  door  of  the  dining-room,  which  they 
were  then  passing,  **  these  are  some  of  your  works. 
Very  remarkable."  And  he  again  and  still  more  sharply 
peered  into  the  countenance  of  the  young  man. 

Somerset,  unable  to  suppress  a  blush,  made  the  more 
haste  to  lead  his  visitor  up  stairs  and  to  display  the 
apartments. 

*' Excellent,"  observed  the  stranger,  as  he  looked 
from  one  of  the  back  windows.  "  Is  that  a  mews  be- 
hind, sir  ?  Very  good.  Well,  sir,  see  here.  My  friend 
will  take  your  drawing-room  floor;  he  will  sleep  in  the 
back  drawing-room ;  his  nurse,  an  excellent  Irish  widow, 

»33 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

will  attend  on  all  his  wants  and  occupy  a  garret;  he  will 
pay  you  the  round  sum  of  ten  dollars  a  week ;  and  you, 
on  your  part,  will  engage  to  receive  no  other  lodger  ?  I 
think  that  fair." 

Somerset  had  scarcely  words  in  which  to  clothe  his 
gratitude  and  joy. 

'^Agreed,"  said  the  other;  ''and  to  spare  you  trouble, 
my  friend  will  bring  some  men  with  him  to  make  the 
changes.  You  will  find  him  a  retiring  inmate,  sir;  re- 
ceives but  few,  and  rarely  leaves  the  house  except  at 
night." 

''Since  I  have  been  in  this  house,"  returned  Somer- 
set, "I  have  myself,  unless  it  were  to  fetch  beer,  rarely 
gone  abroad  except  in  the  evening.  But  a  man,"  he 
added,  "must  have  some  amusement." 

An  hour  was  then  agreed  on ;  the  gentleman  departed ; 
and  Somerset  sat  down  to  compute  in  English  money 
the  value  of  the  figure  named.  The  result  of  this  investi- 
gation filled  him  with  amazement  and  disgust;  but  it 
was  now  too  late ;  nothing  remained  but  to  endure ;  and 
he  awaited  the  arrival  of  his  tenant,  still  trying,  by  vari- 
ous arithmetical  expedients,  to  obtain  a  more  favourable 
quotation  for  the  dollar.  With  the  approach  of  dusk, 
however,  his  impatience  drove  him  once  more  to  the 
front  balcony.  The  night  fell,  mild  and  airless;  the 
lamps  shone  around  the  central  darkness  of  the  garden ; 
and  through  the  tall  grove  of  trees  that  intervened,  many 
warmly  illuminated  windows  on  the  further  side  of  the 
square  told  their  tale  of  white  napery,  choice  wine,  and 
genial  hospitality.  The  stars  were  already  thickening 
overhead,  when  the  young  man's  eyes  alighted  on  a 
procession  of  three  four-wheelers,  coasting  round  the 

154 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

garden  railing  and  bound  for  the  Superfluous  Mansion. 
They  were  laden  with  formidable  boxes ;  moving  in  a 
military  order,  pne  following  another;  and,  by  the  ex- 
treme slowness  of  their  advance,  inspired  Somerset  with 
the  most  serious  ideas  of  his  tenant's  malady. 

By  the  time  he  had  the  door  open,  the  cabs  had  drawn 
up  beside  the  pavement;  and  from  the  two  first,  there 
had  alighted  the  military  gentleman  of  the  morning  and 
two  very  stalwart  porters.  These  proceeded  instantly 
to  take  possession  of  the  house ;  with  their  own  hands, 
and  firmly  rejecting  Somerset's  assistance,  they  carried 
in  the  various  crates  and  boxes ;  with  their  own  hands 
dismounted  and  transferred  to  the  back  drawing-room 
the  bed  in  which  the  tenant  was  to  sleep ;  and  it  was 
not  until  the  bustle  of  arrival  had  subsided,  and  the  ar- 
rangements were  complete,  that  there  descended,  from 
the  third  of  the  three  vehicles,  a  gentleman  of  great 
stature  and  broad  shoulders,  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of 
a  woman  in  a  widow's  dress,  and  himself  covered  by 
a  long  cloak  and  muffled  in  a  coloured  comforter. 

Somerset  had  but  a  glimpse  of  him  in  passing;  he 
was  soon  shut  into  the  back  drawing-room ;  the  other 
men  departed;  silence  redescended  on  the  house;  and 
had  not  the  nurse  appeared  a  little  before  half- past  ten, 
and,  with  a  strong  brogue,  asked  if  there  were  a  decent 
public-house  in  the  neighbourhood,  Somerset  might 
have  still  supposed  himself  to  be  alone  in  the  Superflu- 
ous Mansion. 

Day  followed  day :  and  still  the  young  man  had  never 
come  by  speech  or  sight  of  his  mysterious  lodger.  The 
doors  of  the  drawing-room  flat  were  never  open ;  and 
although  Somerset  could  hear  him  moving  to  and  fro, 

135 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

the  tall  man  never  quitted  the  privacy  of  his  apartments. 
Visitors,  indeed,  arrived ;  sometimes  in  the  dusk,  some- 
times at  intempestuous  hours  of  night  or  morning;  men, 
for  the  most  part ;  some  meanly  attired,  some  decently ; 
some  loud,  some  cringing;  and  yet  all,  in  the  eyes 
of  Somerset,  displeasing.  A  certain  air  of  fear  and  se- 
crecy was  common  to  them  all ;  they  were  all  voluble, 
he  thought,  and  ill  at  ease ;  even  the  military  gentleman 
proved,  on  a  closer  inspection,  to  be  no  gentleman  at 
all;  and  as  for  the  doctor  who  attended  the  sick  man, 
his  manners  were  not  suggestive  of  a  university  career. 
The  nurse,  again,  was  scarcely  a  desirable  house-fellow. 
Since  her  arrival,  the  fall  of  whisky  in  the  young  man's 
private  bottle  was  much  accelerated ;  and  though  never 
communicative,  she  was  at  times  unpleasantly  familiar. 
When  asked  about  the  patient's  health,  she  would  do- 
lorously shake  her  head,  and  declare  that  the  poor  gentle- 
man was  in  a  pitiful  condition. 

Yet  somehow  Somerset  had  early  begun  to  entertain 
the  notion  that  his  complaint  was  other  than  bodily. 
The  ill-looking  birds  that  gathered  to  the  house,  the 
strange  noises  that  sounded  from  the  drawing-room  in 
the  dead  hours  of  night,  the  careless  attendance  and  in- 
temperate habits  of  the  nurse,  the  entire  absence  of  cor- 
respondence, the  entire  seclusion  of  Mr.  Jones  himself, 
whose  face,  up  to  that  hour,  he  could  not  have  sworn 
to  in  a  court  of  justice  —  all  weighed  unpleasantly  upon 
the  young  man's  mind.  A  sense  of  something  evil,  ir- 
regular and  underhand,  haunted  and  depressed  him;  and 
this  uneasy  sentiment  was  the  more  firmly  rooted  in  his 
mind,  when,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  observing  the  features  of  his  tenant.     It  fell  in 

136 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION 

this  way.  The  young  landlord  was  awakened  about 
four  in  the  morning  by  a  noise  in  the  hall.  Leaping  to 
his  feet,  and  opening  the  door  of  the  library,  he  saw  the 
tall  man,  candle  in  hand,  in  earnest  conversation  with 
the  gentleman  who  had  taken  the  rooms.  The  faces  of 
both  were  strongly  illuminated ;  and  in  that  of  his  ten- 
ant Somerset  could  perceive  none  of  the  marks  of  dis- 
ease, but  every  sign  of  health,  energy  and  resolution. 
While  he  was  still  looking,  the  visitor  took  his  depart- 
ure; and  the  invalid,  having  carefully  fastened  the  front 
door,  sprang  up  stairs  without  a  trace  of  lassitude. 

That  night  upon  his  pillow,  Somerset  began  to  kindle 
once  more  into  the  hot  fit  of  the  detective  fever;  and  the 
next  morning  resumed  the  practice  of  his  art  with  care- 
less hand  and  an  abstracted  mind.  The  day  was  des- 
tined to  be  fertile  in  surprises;  nor  had  he  long  been 
seated  at  the  easel  ere  the  first  of  these  occurred.  A 
cab  laden  with  baggage  drew  up  before  the  door;  and 
Mrs.  Luxmore  in  person  rapidly  mounted  the  steps  and 
began  to  pound  upon  the  knocker.  Somerset  hastened 
to  attend  the  summons. 

''  My  dear  fellow,"  she  said,  with  the  utmost  gayety, 
•*  here  I  come  dropping  from  the  moon.  1  am  delighted 
to  find  you  faithful ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be 
equally  pleased  to  be  restored  to  liberty." 

Somerset  could  find  no  words,  whether  of  protest  or 
welcome;  and  the  spirited  old  lady  pushed  briskly  by 
him  and  paused  on  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room. 
The  sight  that  met  her  eyes  was  one  well  calculated  to 
inspire  astonishment.  The  mantel-piece  was  arrayed 
with  sauce-pans  and  empty  bottles ;  on  the  fire  some 
chops  were  frying ;  the  floor  was  littered  from  end  to 

137 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

end  with  books,  clothes,  walking-canes  and  the  mate- 
rials of  the  painter's  craft ;  but  what  far  outstripped  the 
other  wonders  of  the  place  was  the  corner  which  had 
been  arranged  for  the  study  of  still-life.  This  formed  a 
sort  of  rockery ;  conspicuous  upon  which,  according  to 
the  principles  of  the  art  of  composition,  a  cabbage  was 
relieved  against  a  copper  kettle,  and  both  contrasted 
with  the  mail  of  a  boiled  lobster. 

*'  My  gracious  goodness ! "  cried  the  lady  of  the  house ; 
and  then,  turning  in  wrath  on  the  young  man,  "  From 
what  rank  in  life  are  you  sprung?"  she  demanded. 
*' You  have  the  exterior  of  a  gentleman;  but  from  the 
astonishing  evidences  before  me,  I  should  say  you  can 
only  be  a  green-grocer's  man.  Pray,  gather  up  your 
vegetables,  and  let  me  see  no  more  of  you." 

*'  Madam,"  babbled  Somerset,  "you  promised  me  a 
month's  warning." 

"That  was  under  a  misapprehension,"  returned  the 
old  lady,  *'  I  now  give  you  warning  to  leave  at  once." 

"Madam,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  wish  I  could; 
and  indeed,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  might  be  done. 
But  then,  my  lodger! " 

"Your  lodger?"  echoed  Mrs.  Luxmore. 

"  My  lodger;  why  should  I  deny  it  ?"  returned  Som- 
erset.    "  He  is  only  here  by  the  week." 

The  old  lady  sat  down  upon  a  chair.  "  You  have  a 
lodger  ?  —  you  ?  "  she  cried.  ' '  And  pray,  how  did  you 
get  him  ?" 

"By  advertisement,"  replied  the  young  man.  "O 
madam,  I  have  not  lived  unobservantly.  I  adopted  " — 
his  eyes  involuntarily  shifted  to  the  cartoons — "I 
adopted  every  method." 

138 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

Her  eyes  had  followed  his ;  for  the  first  time  in  Som- 
erset's experience,  she  produced  a  double  eyeglass ;  and 
as  soon  as  the  full  merit  of  the  works  flashed  upon  her, 
she  gave  way  to  peal  after  peal  of  her  thrilling  and  so- 
prano laughter. 

''Oh,  I  think  you  are  perfectly  delicious! "  she  cried. 
"  I  do  hope  you  had  them  in  the  window.  M*Pherson, " 
she  continued,  crying  to  her  maid,  who  had  been  all 
this  time  grimly  waiting  in  the  hall,  "  I  lunch  with  Mr. 
Somerset.     Take  the  cellar  key  and  bring  some  wine." 

In  this  gay  humour,  she  continued  throughout  the 
luncheon ;  presented  Somerset  with  a  couple  of  dozen  of 
wine,  which  she  made  M'Pherson  bring  up  from  the 
cellar — "as  a  present,  my  dear,"  she  said,  with  an- 
other burst  of  tearful  merriment,  "for  your  charming 
pictures,  which  you  must  be  sure  to  leave  me  when  you 
go; "  and  finally,  protesting  that  she  dared  not  spoil  the 
absurdest  houseful  of  madmen  in  the  whole  of  London, 
departed  (as  she  vaguely  phrased  it)  for  the  continent  of 
Europe. 

She  was  no  sooner  gone,  than  Somerset  encountered 
in  the  corridor  the  Irish  nurse ;  sober,  to  all  appearance, 
and  yet  a  prey  to  singularly  strong  emotion.  It  was 
made  to  appear,  from  her  account,  that  Mr.  Jones  had 
already  suffered  acutely  in  his  health  from  Mrs.  Lux- 
more's  visit,  and  that  nothing  short  of  a  full  explanation 
could  allay  the  invalid's  uneasiness.  Somerset,  some- 
what staring,  told  what  he  thought  fit  of  the  affair. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  cried  the  woman.  "  As  God  sees  you, 
is  that  all  ?  " 

"My  good  woman,"  said  the  young  man,  "I  have 
no  idea  what  you  can  be  driving  at.     Suppose  the  lady 

139 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

were  my  friend's  wife,  suppose  she  were  my  fairy  god- 
mother, suppose  she  were  the  Queen  of  Portugal ;  and 
how  should  that  affect  yourself  or  Mr.  Jones  ?  " 

"Blessed  Mary! "  cried  the  nurse,  '*it's  he  that  will 
be  glad  to  hear  it  ! " 

And  immediately  she  fled  up  stairs. 

Somerset,  on  his  part,  returned  to  the  dining-room, 
and  with  a  very  thoughtful  brow  and  ruminating  many 
theories,  disposed  of  the  remainder  of  the  bottle.  It  was 
port;  and  port  is  a  wine,  sole  among  its  equals  and 
superiors,  that  can  in  some  degree  support  the  compe- 
tition of  tobacco.  Sipping,  smoking,  and  theorizing, 
Somerset  moved  on  from  suspicion  to  suspicion,  from 
resolve  to  resolve,  still  growing  braver  and  rosier  as  the 
bottle  ebbed.  He  was  a  skeptic,  none  prouder  of  the 
name;  he  had  no  horror  at  command,  whether  for 
crimes  or  vices,  but  beheld  and  embraced  the  world, 
with  an  immoral  approbation,  the  frequent  consequence 
of  youth  and  health.  At  the  same  time  he  felt  con- 
vinced that  he  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  secret 
malefactors ;  and  the  unregenerate  instinct  of  the  chase 
impelled  him  to  severity.  The  bottle  had  run  low ;  the 
summer  sun  had  finally  withdrawn;  and  at  the  same 
moment,  night  and  the  pangs  of  hunger  recalled  him 
from  his  dreams. 

He  went  forth,  and  dined  in  the  Criterion :  a  dinner 
in  consonance,  not  so  much  with  his  purse,  as  with  the 
admirable  wine  he  had  discussed.  What  with  one 
thing  and  another,  it  was  long  past  midnight  when  he 
returned  home.  A  cab  was  at  the  door ;  and  entering  the 
hall,  Somerset  found  himself  face  to  face  with  one  of  the 
most  regular  of  the  few  who  visited  Mr.  Jones :  a  man 

140 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

of  powerful  figure,  strong  lineaments,  and  a  chin-beard 
in  the  American  fashion.  This  person  was  carrying  on 
one  shoulder  a  black  portmanteau,  seemingly  of  consid- 
erable weight.  That  he  should  find  a  visitor  removing 
baggage  in  the  dead  of  night,  recalled  some  odd  stories 
to  the  young  man's  memory;  he  had  heard  of  lodgers 
who  thus  gradually  drained  away,  not  only  their  own 
effects,  but  the  very  furniture  and  fittings  of  the  house 
that  sheltered  them;  and  now,  in  a  mood  between 
pleasantry  and  suspicion,  and  aping  the  manner  of  a 
drunkard,  he  roughly  bumped  against  the  man  with 
the  chin-beard  and  knocked  the  portmanteau  from  his 
shoulder  to  the  floor.  With  a  face  struck  suddenly  as 
white  as  paper,  the  man  with  the  chin-beard  called 
lamentably  on  the  name  of  his  maker,  and  fell  in  a  mere 
heap  on  the  mat  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  At  the  same 
time,  though  only  for  a  single  instant,  the  heads  of  the 
sick  lodger  and  the  Irish  nurse  popped  out  like  rabbits 
over  the  banisters  of  the  first  floor;  and  on  both  the 
same  scare  and  pallor  were  apparent. 

The  sight  of  this  incredible  emotion  turned  Somerset 
to  stone,  and  he  continued  speechless,  while  the  man 
gathered  himself  together,  and  with  the  help  of  the 
handrail  and  audibly  thanking  God,  scrambled  once 
more  upon  his  feet. 

"What  in  Heaven's  name  ails  you?"  gasped  the 
young  man  as  soon  as  he  could  find  words  and  utter- 
ance. 

''Have  you  a  drop  of  brandy.^"  returned  the  other. 
'M  am  sick." 

Somerset  administered  two  drams,  one  after  the  other, 
to  the  man  with  the  chin-beard;  who  then,  somewhat 

141 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

restored,  began  to  confound  himself  in  apologies  for 
what  he  called  his  miserable  nervousness,  the  result,  he 
said,  of  a  long  course  of  dumb  ague ;  and  having  taken 
leave  with  a  hand  that  still  sweated  and  trembled,  he 
gingerly  resumed  his  burden  and  departed. 

Somerset  retired  to  bed  but  not  to  sleep.  What,  he 
asked  himself,  had  been  the  contents  of  the  black  port- 
manteau ?  Stolen  goods  ?  the  carcass  of  one  murdered  ? 
or — and  at  the  thought  he  sat  upright  in  bed  —  an  in- 
fernal machine  ?  He  took  a  solemn  vow  that  he  would 
set  these  doubts  at  rest ;  and  with  the  next  morning, 
installed  himself  beside  the  dining-room  window,  vigi- 
lant with  eye  and  ear,  to  await  and  profit  by  the  earliest 
opportunity. 

The  hours  went  heavily  by.  Within  the  house  there 
was  no  circumstance  of  novelty ;  unless  it  might  be  that 
the  nurse  more  frequently  made  little  journeys  round  the 
corner  of  the  square,  and  before  afternoon  was  some- 
what loose  of  speech  and  gait.  A  little  after  six,  how- 
ever, there  came  round  the  corner  of  the  gardens  a  very 
handsome  and  elegantly  dressed  young  woman,  who 
paused  a  little  way  off,  and  for  some  time,  and  with 
frequent  sighs,  contemplated  the  front  of  the  Superfluous 
Mansion.  It  was  not  the  first  time  that  she  had  thus 
stood  afar  and  looked  upon  it,  like  our  common  parents 
at  the  gates  of  Eden ;  and  the  young  man  had  already 
had  occasion  to  remark  the  lively  slimness  of  her  car- 
riage, and  had  already  been  the  butt  of  a  chance  arrow 
from  her  eye.  He  hailed  her  coming,  then,  with  pleas- 
ant feelings,  and  moved  a  little  nearer  to  the  window 
to  enjoy  the  sight.  What  was  his  surprise,  however, 
when,  as  if  with  a  sensible  effort,  she  drew  near, 

14a 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

mounted  the  steps  and  tapped  discreetly  at  the  door! 
He  made  haste  to  get  before  the  Irish  nurse,  who  was 
not  improbably  asleep,  and  had  the  satisfaction  to  re- 
ceive this  gracious  visitor  in  person. 

She  inquired  for  Mr.  Jones ;  and  then,  without  transi- 
tion, asked  the  young  man  if  he  were  the  person  of  the 
house  (and  at  the  words,  he  thought  he  could  perceive 
her  to  be  smiling),  ** because,"  she  added,  "if  you  are, 
I  should  like  to  see  some  of  the  other  rooms." 

Somerset  told  her  he  was  under  an  engagement  to 
receive  no  lodgers ;  but  she  assured  him  that  would  be 
no  matter,  as  these  were  friends  of  Mr.  Jones's.  * '  And, " 
she  continued,  moving  suddenly  to  the  dining-room 
door,  "let  us  begin  here."  Somerset  was  too  late  to 
prevent  her  entering,  and  perhaps  he  lacked  the  courage 
to  essay.     "  Ah !  "  she  cried,  "  how  changed  it  is ! " 

"Madam,"  cried  the  young  man,  "since  your  en- 
trance, it  is  I  who  have  the  right  to  say  so." 

She  received  this  inane  compliment  with  a  demure 
and  conscious  droop  of  the  eyelids,  and  gracefully  steer- 
ing her  dress  among  the  mingled  litter,  now  with  a 
smile,  now  with  a  sigh,  reviewed  the  wonders  of  the 
two  apartments.  She  gazed  upon  the  cartoons  with 
sparkling  eyes,  and  a  heightened  colour,  and  in  a  some- 
what breathless  voice  expressed  a  high  opinion  of  their 
merits.  She  praised  the  effective  disposition  of  the 
rockery,  and  in  the  bedroom,  of  which  Somerset  had 
vainly  endeavoured  to  defend  the  entry,  she  fairly  broke 
forth  in  admiration.  "How  simple  and  manly!"  she 
cried:  "none  of  that  effeminacy  of  neatness,  which  is 
so  detestable  in  a  man! "  Hard  upon  this,  telling  him, 
before  he  had  time  to  reply,  that  she  very  well  knew 

>43 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

her  way,  and  would  trouble  him  no  further,  she  took 
her  leave  with  an  engaging  smile,  and  ascended  the 
staircase  alone. 

For  more  than  an  hour,  the  young  lady  remained 
closeted  with  Mr.  Jones ;  and  at  the  end  of  that  time, 
the  night  being  now  come  completely,  they  left  the 
house  in  company.  This  was  the  first  time  since  the 
arrival  of  his  lodger,  that  Somerset  had  found  himself 
alone  with  the  Irish  widow;  and  without  the  loss  of 
any  more  time  than  was  required  by  decency,  he 
stepped  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  hailed  her  by  her 
name.  She  came  instantly,  wreathed  in  weak  smiles 
^nd  with  a  nodding  head;  and  when  the  young  man 
politely  offered  to  introduce  her  to  the  treasures  of  his 
art,  she  swore  that  nothing  could  afford  her  greater 
pleasure,  for,  though  she  had  never  crossed  the  thresh- 
old, she  had  frequently  observed  his  beautiful  pictures 
through  the  door.  On  entering  the  dining-room,  the 
sight  of  a  bottle  and  two  glasses  prepared  her  to  be  a 
gentle  critic;  and  as  soon  as  the  pictures  had  been 
viewed  and  praised,  she  was  easily  persuaded  to  join 
the  painter  in  a  single  glass.  ''Here,"  she  said,  "are 
my  respects ;  and  a  pleasure  it  is,  in  this  horrible  house, 
to  see  a  gentleman  like  yourself,  so  affable  and  free,  and 
a  very  nice  painter,  I  am  sure."  One  glass  so  agreeably 
prefaced,  was  sure  to  lead  to  the  acceptance  of  a  second ; 
at  the  third,  Somerset  was  free  to  cease  from  the  affecta- 
tion of  keeping  her  company ;  and  as  for  the  fourth,  she 
asked  it  of  her  own  accord.  "For  indeed,"  said  she, 
"  what  with  all  these  clocks  and  chemicals,  without  a 
drop  of  the  creature  life  would  be  impossible  entirely. 
And  you  seen  yourself  that  even  M'Guire  was  glad  to 

144 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

beg  for  it.  And  even  himself,  wh^n  he  is  downhearted 
with  all  these  cruel  disappointments,  though  as  tem- 
perate a  man  as  any  child,  will  be  sometimes  crying  for 
a  glass  of  it.  And  I'll  thank  you  for  a  thimbleful  to  set- 
tle what  I  got."  Soon  after,  she  began  with  tears  to 
narrate  the  deathbed  dispositions  and  lament  the  trifling 
assets  of  her  husband.  Then  she  declared  she  heard 
'*the  master"  calling  her,  rose  to  her  feet,  made  but 
one  lurch  of  it  into  the  still-life  rockery,  and  with  her 
head  upon  the  lobster,  fell  into  stertorous  slumbers. 

Somerset  mounted  at  once  to  the  first  story,  and 
opened  the  door  of  the  drawing-room,  which  was  bril- 
liantly lighted  by  several  lamps.  It  was  a  great  apart- 
ment ;  looking  on  the  square  with  three  tall  windows, 
and  joined  by  a  pair  of  ample  folding-doors  to  the  next 
room ;  elegant  in  proportion,  papered  in  sea-green,  fur- 
nished in  velvet  of  a  delicate  blue,  and  adorned  with  a 
majestic  mantel-piece  of  variously  tinted  marbles.  Such 
was  the  room  that  Somerset  remembered ;  that  which 
he  now  beheld  was  changed  in  almost  every  feature :  the 
furniture  covered  with  a  figured  chintz ;  the  walls  hung 
with  a  rhubarb  coloured  paper,  and  diversified  by  the 
curtained  recesses  for  no  less  than  seven  windows.  It 
seemed  to  himself  that  he  must  have  entered,  without 
observing  the  transition,  into  the  adjoining  house.  Pres- 
ently from  these  more  specious  changes,  his  eye  con- 
descended to  the  many  curious  objects  with  which  the 
floor  was  littered.  Here  were  the  locks  of  dismounted 
pistols ;  clocks  and  clockwork  in  every  stage  of  demo- 
lition, some  still  busily  ticking,  some  reduced  to  their 
dainty  elements ;  a  great  company  of  carboys,  jars  and 
bottles;  a  carpenter's  bench  and  a  laboratory-table. 

•45 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

The  back  drawing-room,  to  which  Somerset  pro- 
ceeded, had  likewise  undergone  a  change.  It  was 
transformed  to  the  exact  appearance  of  a  common 
lodging-house  bedroom ;  a  bed  with  green  curtains  oc- 
cupied one  corner;  and  the  window  was  blocked  by 
the  regulation  table  and  mirror.  The  door  of  a  small 
closet  here  attracted  the  young  man's  attention;  and 
striking  a  vesta,  he  opened  it  and  entered.  On  a  table 
several  wigs  and  beards  were  lying  spread ;  about  the 
walls  hung  an  incongruous  display  of  suits  and  over- 
coats ;  and  conspicuous  among  the  last  the  young  man 
observed  a  large  overall  of  the  most  costly  sealskin.  In 
a  flash  his  mind  reverted  to  the  advertisement  in  the 
Standard  newspaper.  The  great  height  of  his  lodger, 
the  disproportionate  breadth  of  his  shoulders,  and  the 
strange  particulars  of  his  instalment,  all  pointed  to  the 
same  conclusion. 

The  vesta  had  now  burned  to  his  fingers ;  and  taking 
the  coat  upon  his  arm,  Somerset  hastily  returned  to  the 
lighted  drawing-room.  There,  with  a  mixture  of  fear 
and  admiration,  he  pored  upon  its  goodly  proportions 
and  the  regularity  and  softness  of  the  pile.  The  sight 
of  a  large  pier-glass  put  another  fancy  in  his  head.  He 
donned  the  fur-coat;  and  standing  before  the  mirror  in 
an  attitude  suggestive  of  a  Russian  prince,  he  thrust  his 
hands  into  the  ample  pockets.  There  his  fingers  en- 
countered a  folded  journal.  He  drew  it  out,  and  recog- 
nised the  type  and  paper  of  the  Standard ;  and  at  the 
same  instant,  his  eyes  alighted  on  the  offer  of  two  hun- 
dred pounds.  Plainly  then,  his  lodger,  now  no  longer 
mysterious,  had  laid  aside  his  coat  on  the  very  day  of 
the  appearance  of  the  advertisement. 

146 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

He  was  thus  standing,  the  tell-tale  coat  upon  his  back, 
the  incriminating  paper  in  his  hand,  when  the  door 
opened  and  the  tall  lodger,  with  a  firm  but  somewhat 
pallid  face,  stepped  into  the  room  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him.  For  some  time,  the  two  looked  upon  each 
other  in  perfect  silence ;  then  Mr.  Jones  moved  forward 
to  the  table,  took  a  seat,  and,  still  without  once  chang- 
ing the  direction  of  his  eyes,  addressed  the  young  man. 

*' You  are  right,"  he  said.  'Mt  is  for  me  the  blood- 
money  is  offered.     And  now  what  will  you  do .?  " 

It  was  a  question  to  which  Somerset  was  far  from 
l)eing  able  to  reply.  Taken  as  he  was  at  unawares, 
masquerading  in  the  man's  own  coat,  and  surrounded 
by  a  whole  arsenal  of  diabolical  explosives,  the  keeper 
of  the  lodging-house  was  silenced. 

"Yes,"  resumed  the  other,  "1  am  he.  I  am  that 
man,  whom  with  impotent  hate  and  fear,  they  still  hunt 
from  den  to  den,  from  disguise  to  disguise.  Yes,  my 
landlord,  you  have  it  in  your  power,  if  you  be  poor,  to 
lay  the  basis  of  your  fortune ;  if  you  be  unknown,  to 
capture  honour  at  one  snatch.  You  have  hocussed  an 
innocent  widow ;  and  I  find  you  here  in  my  apartment, 
for  whose  use  I  pay  you  in  stamped  money,  searching 
my  wardrobe,  and  your  hand — shame,  sir!  —  your 
hand  in  my  very  pocket.  You  can  now  complete  the 
cycle  of  your  ignominious  acts,  by  what  will  be  at  once 
the  simplest,  the  safest  and  most  remunerative."  The 
speaker  paused  as  if  to  emphasise  his  words ;  and  then, 
with  a  great  change  of  tone  and  manner,  thus  resumed : 
"And  yet,  sir,  when  I  look  upon  your  face,  I  feel  cer- 
tain that  I  cannot  be  deceived :  certain  that  in  spite  of 
all,  I  have  the  honour  and  pleasure  of  speaking  to  a  gen- 

«47 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

tieman.  Take  off  my  coat,  sir — which  but  cumbers 
you.  Divest  yourself  of  this  confusion :  that  which  is 
but  thought  upon,  thank  God,  need  be  no  burden  to 
the  conscience ;  we  have  all  harboured  guilty  thoughts ; 
and  if  it  flashed  into  your  mind  to  sell  my  flesh  and 
blood,  my  anguish  in  the  dock,  and  the  sweat  of  my 
death  agony  —  it  was  a  thought,  dear  sir,  you  were  as 
incapable  of  acting  on,  as  I  of  any  further  question  of 
your  honour. "  At  these  words,  the  speaker,  with  a  very 
open,  smiling  countenance,  like  a  forgiving  father,  offered 
Somerset  his  hand. 

It  was  not  in  the  young  man's  nature  to  refuse  for- 
giveness or  dissect  generosity.  He  instantly,  and  al- 
most without  thought,  accepted  the  proffered  grasp. 

*'And  now,"  resumed  the  lodger,  ''now  that  I  hold 
in  mine  your  loyal  hand,  I  lay  by  my  apprehensions, 
I  dismiss  suspicion,  I  go  further  —  by  an  effort  of  will,  I 
banish  the  memory  of  what  is  past.  How  you  came 
here,  I  care  not:  enough  that  you  are  here — as  my 
guest.  Sit  ye  down ;  and  let  us,  with  your  good  per- 
mission, improve  acquaintance  over  a  glass  of  excellent 
whisky." 

So  speaking,  he  produced  glasses  and  a  bottle;  and 
the  pair  pledged  each  other  in  silence. 

''Confess,"  observed  the  smiling  host,  "you  were 
surprised  at  the  appearance  of  the  room." 

"I  was  indeed,"  said  Somerset;  "nor  can  I  imagine 
the  purpose  of  these  changes." 

"These,"  replied  the  conspirator,  "are  the  devices  by 
which  I  continue  to  exist.  Conceive  me  now,  accused 
before  one  of  your  unjust  tribunals ;  conceive  the  vari- 
ous witnesses  appearing,  and  the  singular  variety  of 

148 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

their  reports !  One  will  have  visited  me  in  this  draw- 
ing-room as  it  originally  stood ;  a  second  finds  it  as  it  is 
to-night;  and  to-morrow  or  next  day,  all  may  have 
been  changed.  If  you  love  romance  (as  artists  do),  few 
lives  are  more  romantic  than  that  of  the  obscure  indi- 
vidual now  addressing  you.  Obscure  yet  famous.  Mine 
is  an  anonymous,  infernal  glory.  By  infamous  means,  I 
work  toward  my  bright  purpose.  I  found  the  liberty  and 
peace  of  a  poor  country  desperately  abused ;  the  future 
smiles  upon  that  land ;  yet,  in  the  meantime,  I  lead  the 
existence  of  a  hunted  brute,  work  toward  appalling 
ends,  and  practise  hell's  dexterities." 

Somerset,  glass  in  hand,  contemplated  the  strange 
fanatic  before  him,  and  listened  to  his  heated  rhapsody 
with  indescribable  bewilderment.  He  looked  him  in 
the  face  with  curious  particularity ;  saw  there  the  marks 
of  education ;  and  wondered  the  more  profoundly. 

'*Sir,"  he  said —  **for  I  know  not  whether  I  should 
still  address  you  as  Mr.  Jones " 

''Jones,  Breitman,  Higginbotham,  Pumpernickel,  Da- 
viot,  Henderland,  by  all  or  any  of  these  you  may  address 
me,"  said  the  plotter;  "for  all  I  have  at  some  time 
borne.  Yet  that  which  I  most  prize,  that  which  is  most 
feared,  hated  and  obeyed,  is  not  a  name  to  be  found  in 
your  directories ;  it  is  not  a  name  current  in  post-offices 
or  banks;  and  indeed,  like  the  celebrated  clan  M'Gregor, 
I  may  justly  describe  myself  as  being  nameless  by  day. 
But,"  he  continued,  rising  to  his  feet,  "by  night,  and 
among  my  desperate  followers,  I  am  the  redoubted 
Zero." 

Somerset  was  unacquainted  with  the  name ;  but  he 
politely  expressed  surprise  and  gratification.     "  I  am  ta 

149 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

understand,"  he  continued,  '*that,  under  this  alias,  you 
follow  the  profession  of  a  dynamiter  ?  "  ^ 

The  plotter  had  resumed  his  seat  and  now  replenished 
the  glasses. 

"  I  do,"  he  said.  "  In  this  dark  period  of  time,  a  star 
—  the  star  of  dynamite  —  has  risen  for  the  oppressed ; 
and  among  those  who  practise  its  use,  so  thick  beset 
with  dangers  and  attended  by  such  incredible  difficul- 
ties and  disappointments,  few  have  been  more  assid- 
uous, and  not  many "    He  paused,  and  a  shade  of 

embarrassment  appeared  upon  his  face — '*  not  many 
have  been  more  successful  than  myself" 

**  I  can  imagine,"  observed  Somerset,  **that,  from  the 
sweeping  consequences  looked  for,  the  career  is  not  de- 
void of  interest.  You  have,'  besides,  some  of  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  game  of  hide  and  seek.  But  it  would 
still  seem  to  me — I  speak  as  a  layman — that  nothing 
could  be  simpler  or  safer  than  to  deposit  an  infernal  ma- 
chine and  retire  to  an  adjacent  county  to  await  the  painful 
consequences. " 

**  You  speak,  indeed,"  returned  the  plotter,  with  some 
evidence  of  warmth,  "you  speak,  indeed,  most  igno- 
rantly.  Do  you  make  nothing,  then,  of  such  a  peril  as 
we  share  this  moment  ?    Do  you  think  it  nothing  to 

^  The  Arabian  author  of  the  original  has  here  a  long  passage  con- 
ceived in  a  style  too  oriental  for  the  English  reader.  We  subjoin  a 
specimen,  and  it  seems  doubtful  whether  it  should  be  printed  as  prose 
or  verse:  "Any  writard  who  writes  dynamitard  shall  find  in  me  a 
never-resting  fightard;"  and  he  goes  on  (if  we  correctly  gather  his 
meaning)  to  object  to  such  elegant  and  obviously  correct  spellings  as 
Ump-lightard,  com-dealard,  apple-filchard  (clearly  justified  by  the  par- 
allel—pilchard) and  opera  dancard.  "  Dynamitist,"  he  adds,  **  I  could 
Mnderstand.^ 

150 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

occupy  a  house  like  this  one,  mined,  menaced,  and,  in 
a  word,  literally  tottering  to  its  fall  ?  " 

*'Good  God!"  ejaculated  Somerset. 

'*  And  when  you  speak  of  ease,"  pursued  Zero,  *'in 
this  age  of  scientific  studies,  you  fill  me  with  surprise. 
Are  you  not  aware  that  chemicals  are  proverbially  as 
fickle  as  woman,  and  clockwork  as  capricious  as  the 
very  devil  ?  Do  you  see  on  my  brow  these  furrows  of 
anxiety  ?  do  you  observe  the  silver  threads  that  mingle 
with  my  hair?  Clockwork,  clockwork  has  stamped 
them  on  my  brow  —  chemicals  have  sprinkled  them 
upon  my  locks!  No,  Mr.  Somerset," he  resumed,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  his  voice  still  quivering  with  sensi- 
bility, *'you  must  not  suppose  the  dynamiter's  life  to  be 
all  gold.  On  the  contrary :  you  cannot  picture  to  your- 
self the  bloodshot  vigils  and  the  staggering  disappoint- 
ments of  a  life  like  mine.  I  have  toiled  (let  us  say)  for 
months,  up  early  and  down  late ;  my  bag  is  ready,  my 
clock  set;  a  daring  agent  has  hurried  with  white  face  to 
deposit  the  instrument  of  ruin;  we  await  the  fall  of 
England,  the  massacre  of  thousands,  the  yell  of  fear  and 
execration ;  and  lo !  a  snap  like  that  of  a  child's  pistol, 
an  offensive  smell,  and  the  entire  loss  of  so  much  time 
and  plant!  If,"  he  continued,  musingly,  *' we  had  been 
merely  able  to  recover  the  lost  bags,  I  believe  with  but  a 
touch  or  two,  I  could  have  remedied  the  peccant  engine. 
But  what  with  the  loss  of  plant  and  the  almost  insuper- 
able scientific  difficulties  of  the  task,  our  friends  in  France 
are  almost  ready  to  desert  the  chosen  medium.  They 
propose,  instead,  to  break  up  the  drainage  system  of 
cities  and  sweep  off  whole  populations  with  the  devas- 
tating typhoid  pestilence:  a  tempting  and  a  scientific 

«5« 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

project:  a  process,  indiscriminate  indeed,  but  of  idyllical 
simplicity.  1  recognise  its  elegance;  but,  sir,  I  have 
something  of  the  poet  in  my  nature ;  something,  possi- 
bly, of  the  tribune.  And,  for  my  small  part,  I  shall 
remain  devoted  to  that  more  emphatic,  more  striking, 
and  ( if  you  please )  more  popular  method,  of  the  ex- 
plosive bomb.  Yes,"  he  cried,  with  unshaken  hope, 
"I  will  still  continue,  and  I  feel  it  in  my  bosom  I  shall 
yet  succeed." 

*'Two  things  I  remark,"  said  Somerset.  ''The  first 
somewhat  staggers  me.  Have  you,  then  —  in  all  this 
course  of  life,  which  you  have  sketched  so  vividly  — 
have  you  not  once  succeeded  ?  " 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Zero.  "I  have  had  one  success. 
You  behold  in  me  the  author  of  the  outrage  of  Red  Lion 
Court." 

"But  if  I  remember  right,"  objected  Somerset,  "the 
thing  was  a  fiasco.  A  scavenger's  barrow  and  some 
copies  of  the  '  Weekly  Budget '  —  these  were  the  only 
victims." 

"You  will  pardon  me  again,"  returned  Zero  with 
positive  asperity;  "a  child  was  injured." 

"And  that  fitly  brings  me  to  my  second  point,"  said 
Somerset.  "For  I  observed  you  to  employ  the  word 
'indiscriminate.'  Now,  surely,  a  scavenger's  barrow 
and  a  child  (if  child  there  was)  represent  the  very  acme 
and  top  pin-point  of  indiscriminate,  and,  pardon  me,  of 
ineffectual  reprisal." 

"Did  I  employ  the  word  .?"  asked  Zero.  "Well,  I 
will  not  defend  it.  But  for  efficiency,  you  touch  on 
graver  matters ;  and  before  entering  upon  so  vast  a  sub- 
ject, permit  me  once  more  to  fill  our  glasses.     Disputa- 

152 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

tion  is  dry  work,"  he  added,  with  a  charming  gayety 
of  manner. 

Once  more  accordingly  the  pair  pledged  each  other  in 
a  stalwart  grog;  and  Zero,  leaning  back  with  an  air  of 
some  complacency,  proceeded  more  largely  to  develop 
his  opinions. 

**The  indiscriminate,"  he  began.  **War,  my  dear 
sir,  is  indiscriminate.  War  spares  not  the  child ;  it  spares 
not  the  barrow  of  the  harmless  scavenger.  No  more," 
he  concluded,  beaming,  "no  more  do  I.  Whatever 
may  strike  fear,  whatever  may  confound  or  paralyse  the 
activities  of  the  guilty  nation,  barrow  or  child,  imperial 
Parliament  or  excursion  steamer,  is  welcome  to  my  sim- 
ple plans.  You  are  not,"  he  inquired,  with  a  shade  of 
sympathetic  interest,  *'you  are  not,  I  trust,  a  believer  ?" 

''Sir,  I  believe  in  nothing,"  said  the  young  man. 

*'  You  are  then,"  replied  Zero,  "  in  position  to  grasp 
my  argument.  We  agree  that  humanity  is  the  object, 
the  glorious  triumph  of  humanity ;  and  being  pledged  to 
labour  for  that  end,  and  face  to  face  with  the  banded  op- 
position of  kings,  parliaments,  churches,  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  force,  who  am  I  —  who  are  we,  dear  sir —  to 
affect  a  nicety  about  the  tools  employed  ?  You  might, 
perhaps,  expect  us  to  attack  the  Queen,  the  sinister 
Gladstone,  the  rigid  Derby,  or  the  dexterous  Granville; 
but  there  you  would  be  in  error.  Our  appeal  is  to  the 
body  of  the  people ;  it  is  these  that  we  would  touch  and 
interest.  Now,  sir,  have  you  observed  the  English 
housemaid  ?  " 

"  I  should  think  I  had,"  cried  Somerset. 

**  From  a  man  of  taste  and  a  votary  of  art,  I  had  ex- 
pected it,"  returned  the  conspirator  politely.     '*  A  type 

153 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

apart;  a  very  charming  figure;  and  thoroughly  adapted 
to  our  ends.  The  neat  cap,  the  clean  print,  the  comely 
person,  the  engaging  manner;  her  position  between 
classes,  parents  in  one,  employers  in  another;  the  prob- 
ability that  she  will  have  at  least  one  sweetheart,  whose 
feelings  we  shall  address :  —  yes,  I  have  a  leaning  —  call 
it,  if  you  will,  a  weakness  —  for  the  housemaid.  Not 
that  I  would  be  understood  to  despise  the  nurse.  For 
the  child  is  a  very  interesting  feature :  I  have  long  since 
marked  out  the  child  as  the  sensitive  point  in  society." 
He  wagged  his  head,  with  a  wise,  pensive  smile.  **  And 
talking,  sir,  of  children  and  of  the  perils  of  our  trade,  let 
me  now  narrate  to  you  a  little  incident  of  an  explosive 
bomb,  that  fell  out  some  weeks  ago  under  my  own  ob- 
servation.    It  fell  out  thus." 

And  Zero,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  narrated  the  fo^ 
lowing  simple  tale. 


.154 


zero's  tale  of  the  explosive  BOMBi 

I  DINED  by  appointment  with  one  of  our  most  trusted 
agents,  in  a  private  chamber  at  St.  James's  Hall.  You 
have  seen  the  man :  it  was  M'Guire,  the  most  chivalrous 
of  creatures,  but  not  himself  expert  in  our  contrivances. 
Hence  the  necessity  of  our  meeting;  for  I  need  not  re- 
mind you  what  enormous  issues  depend  upon  the  nice 
adjustment  of  the  engine.  I  set  our  little  petard  for 
half  an  hour,  the  scene  of  action  being  hard  by ;  and  the 
better  to  avert  miscarriage,  employed  a  device,  a  recent 
invention  of  my  own,  by  which  the  opening  of  the 
Gladstone  bag  in  which  the  bomb  was  carried,  should 
instantly  determine  the  explosion.  M'Guire  was  some- 
what dashed  by  this  arrangement,  which  was  new  to 
him ;  and  pointed  out,  with  excellent,  clear  good  sense, 
that  should  he  be  arrested,  it  would  probably  involve 
him  in  the  fall  of  our  opponents.  But  I  was  not  to  be 
moved,  made  a  strong  appeal  to  his  patriotism,  gave 
him  a  good  glass  of  whisky,  and  despatched  him  on  his 
glorious  errand. 

1  The  Arabian  author,  with  that  quaint  particularity  of  touch  which 
our  translation  usually  praetermits,  here  registers  a  somewhat  inter- 
esting detail.  Zero  pronounced  the  word  "  boom  "  ;  and  the  reader, 
if  but  for  the  nonce,  will  possibly  consent  to  follow  him. 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

Our  objective  was  the  effigy  of  Shakespeare  in  Leices- 
ter Square :  a  spot,  I  think,  admirably  chosen ;  not  only 
for  the  sake  of  the  dramatist,  still  very  foolishly  claimed 
as  a  glory  by  the  English  race,  in  spite  of  his  disgusting 
political  opinions ;  but  from  the  fact  that  the  seats  in  the 
immediate  neighbourhood  are  often  thronged  by  chil- 
dren, errand-boys,  unfortunate  young  ladies  of  the  poorer 
class  and  infirm  old  men  —  all  classes  making  a  direct 
appeal  to  public  pity,  and  therefore  suitable  with  our 
designs.  As  M'Guire  drew  near  his  heart  was  inflamed 
by  the  most  noble  sentiment  of  triumph.  Never  had  he 
seen  the  garden  so  crowded ;  children,  still  stumbling  in 
the  impotence  of  youth,  ran  to  and  fro,  shouting  and 
playing,  round  the  pedestal ;  an  old,  sick  pensioner  sat 
upon  the  nearest  bench,  a  medal  on  his  breast,  a  stick 
with  which  he  walked  (for  he  was  disabled  by  wounds) 
reclining  on  his  knee.  Guilty  England  would  thus  be 
stabbed  in  the  most  delicate  quarters ;  the  moment  had, 
indeed,  been  well  selected;  and  M'Guire,  with  a  radiant 
prevision  of  the  event,  drew  merrily  nearer.  Suddenly 
his  eye  alighted  on  the  burly  form  of  a  policeman,  stand- 
ing hard  by  the  effigy  in  an  attitude  of  watch.  My  bold 
companion  paused;  he  looked  about  him  closely;  here 
and  there,  at  different  points  of  the  inclosure,  other  men 
stood  or  loitered,  affecting  an  abstraction,  feigning  to  gaze 
upon  the  shrubs,  feigning  to  talk,  feigning  to  be  weary 
and  to  rest  upon  the  benches.  M'Guire  was  no  child 
in  these  affairs ;  he  instantly  divined  one  of  the  plots  of 
the  Machiavellian  Gladstone. 

A  chief  difficulty  with  which  we  have  to  deal,  is  a 
certain  nervousness  in  the  subaltern  branches  of  the 
corps ;  as  the  hour  of  some  design  draws  near,  these 

156 


ZERO'S  TALE   OF  THE   EXPLOSIVE   BOMB 

chicken-souled  conspirators  appear  to  suffer  some  revul- 
sion of  intent :  and  frequently  despatch  to  the  authorities, 
not  indeed  specific  denunciations,  but  vague  anonymous 
warnings.  But  for  this  purely  accidental  circumstance, 
England  had  long  ago  been  an  historical  expression. 
On  the  receipt  of  such  a  letter,  the  Government  lay  a 
trap  for  their  adversaries,  and  surround  the  threatened 
spot  with  hirelings.  My  blood  sometimes  boils  in  my 
veins,  when  I  consider  the  case  of  those  who  sell  them- 
selves for  money  in  such  a  cause.  True,  thanks  to  the 
generosity  of  our  supporters,  we  patriots  receive  a  very 
comfortable  stipend ;  I,  myself,  of  course,  touch  a  salary 
which  puts  me  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  any  peddling, 
mercenary  thoughts;  M'Guire,  again,  ere  he  joined  our 
ranks,  was  on  the  brink  of  starving,  and  now,  thank 
God !  receives  a  decent  income.  That  is  as  it  should  be ; 
the  patriot  must  not  be  diverted  from  his  task  by  any 
base  consideration;  and  the  distinction  between  our 
position  and  that  of  the  police  is  too  obvious  to  be 
stated. 

Plainly,  however,  our  Leicester  Square  design  had 
been  divulged ;  the  Government  had  craftily  filled  the 
place  with  minions;  even  the  pensioner  was  not  im- 
probably a  hireling  in  disguise ;  and  our  emissary,  with- 
out other  aid  or  protection  than  the  simple  apparatus  in 
his  bag,  found  himself  confronted  by  force;  brutal  force; 
that  strong  hand  which  was  a  character  of  the  ages  of 
oppression.  Should  he  venture  to  deposit  the  machine, 
it  was  almost  certain  that  he  would  be  observed  and 
arrested ;  a  cry  would  arise ;  and  there  was  just  a  fear 
that  the  police  might  not  be  present  in  sufficient  force, 
to  protect  him  from  the  savagery  of  the  mob.     The 

157 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

scheme  must  be  delayed.  He  stood  with  his  bag  on 
his  arm,  pretending  to  survey  the  front  of  the  Alhambra, 
when  there  flashed  into  his  mind  a  thought  to  appall  the 
bravest.  The  machine  was  set ;  at  the  appointed  hour 
it  must  explode ;  and  how,  in  the  interval,  was  he  to  be 
rid  of  it? 

Put  yourself,  I  beseech  you,  into  the  body  of  that  pa- 
triot. There  he  was,  friendless  and  helpless ;  a  man  in 
the  very  flower  of  life,  for  he  is  not  yet  forty ;  with  long 
years  of  happiness  before  him ;  and  now  condemned,  in 
one  moment,  to  a  cruel  and  revolting  death  by  dyna- 
mite! The  square,  he  said,  went  round  him  like  a 
thaumatrope;  he  saw  the  Alhambra  leap  into  the  air 
like  a  balloon;  and  reeled  against  the  railing.  It  is 
probable  he  fainted. 

When  he  came  to  himself,  a  constable  had  him  by  the 
arm. 

'*My  God!"  he  cried. 

**  You  seem  to  be  unwell,  sir,"  said  the  hireling. 

*'l  feel  better  now,"  cried  poor  M'Guire;  and  with 
uneven  steps,  for  the  pavement  of  the  square  seemed  to 
lurch  and  reel  under  his  footing,  he  fled  from  the  scene 
of  this  disaster.  Fled  ?  Alas,  from  what  was  he  flee- 
ing ?  Did  he  not  carry  that  from  which  he  fled,  along 
with  him  ?  and  had  he  the  wings  of  the  eagle,  had  he 
the  swiftness  of  the  ocean  winds,  could  he  have  been 
rapt  into  the  uttermost  quarters  of  the  earth,  how  should 
he  escape  the  ruin  that  he  carried  ?  We  have  heard  of 
living  men  who  have  been  fettered  to  the  dead;  the 
grievance,  soberly  considered,  is  no  more  than  senti- 
mental ;  the  case  is  but  a  flea-bite  to  that  of  him  who 
was  linked,  like  poor  M*Guire,  to  an  explosive  bomb. 

158 


ZERO'S  TALE  OF  THE  EXPLOSIVE   BOMB 

A  thought  Struck  him  in  Green  Street,  like  a  dart 
through  his  liver;  suppose  it  were  the  hour  already. 
He  stopped  as  though  he  had  been  shot,  and  plucked 
his  watch  out.  There  was  a  howling  in  his  ears,  as  loud 
as  a  winter  tempest;  his  sight  was  now  obscured  as  if 
by  a  cloud,  now,  as  by  a  lightning  flash,  would  show 
him  the  very  dust  upon  the  street.  But  so  brief  were 
these  intervals  of  vision,  and  so  violently  did  the  watch 
vibrate  in  his  hands,  that  it  was  impossible  to  distin- 
guish the  numbers  on  the  dial.  He  covered  his  eyes  for 
a  few  seconds ;  and  in  that  space,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  fallen  to  be  a  man  of  ninety.  When  he  looked 
again,  the  watch-plate  had  grown  legible :  he  had  twenty 
minutes.     Twenty  minutes,  and  no  plan ! 

Green  Street,  at  that  time,  was  very  empty;  and  he 
now  observed  a  little  girl  of  about  six  drawing  near  to 
him  and,  as  she  came,  kicking  in  front  of  her,  as  chil- 
dren will,  a  piece  of  wood.  She  sang,  too ;  and  some- 
thing in  her  accent  recalling  him  to  the  past,  produced 
a  sudden  clearness  in  his  mind.  Here  was  a  God-sent 
opportunity ! 

''My  dear,"  said  he,  "would  you  like  a  present  of  a 
pretty  bag  ?  " 

The  child  cried  aloud  with  joy  and  put  out  her  hands 
to  take  it.  She  had  looked  first  at  the  bag,  like  a  true 
child;  but  most  unfortunately,  before  she  had  yet  re- 
ceived the  fatal  gift,  her  eyes  fell  directly  on  M'Guire; 
and  no  sooner  had  she  seen  the  poor  gentleman's  face, 
than  she  screamed  out  and  leaped  backward,  as  though 
she  had  seen  the  devil.  Almost  at  the  same  moment, 
a  woman  appeared  upon  the  threshold  of  a  neighbouring 
shop,  and  called  upon  the  child  in  anger.      ''Come 

>59 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

here,  colleen,"  she  said,  "  and  don't  be  plaguing  the  poor 
old  gentleman ! "  With  that  she  re-entered  the  house, 
and  the  child  followed  her,  sobbing  aloud. 

With  the  loss  of  this  hope  M'Guire's  reason  swooned 
within  him.  When  next  he  awoke  to  consciousness, 
he  was  standing  before  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields,  wav- 
ering like  a  drunken  man;  the  passers-by  regarding 
him  with  eyes  in  which  he  read,  as  in  a  glass,  an  image 
of  the  terror  and  horror  that  dwelt  within  his  own. 

*'  I  am  afraid  you  are  very  ill,  sir,"  observed  a  woman, 
stopping  and  gazing  hard  in  his  face.  ''Can  I  do  any 
thing  to  help  you  }  " 

'Mil.?"  said  M'Guire.  "O  God!"  And  then,  recov- 
ering some  shadow  of  his  self-command,  "  Chronic, 
madam,"  said  he;  "a  long  course  of  the  dumb  ague. 
But  since  you  are  so  compassionate  —  an  errand  that  I 
lack  the  strength  to  carry  out,"  he  gasped —  "this  bag 
to  Portman  Square.  O  compassionate  woman,  as  you 
hope  to  be  saved,  as  you  are  a  mother,  in  the  name  of 
your  babies  that  wait  to  welcome  you  at  home,  oh  take 
this  bag  to  Portman  Square  !  I  have  a  mother,  too," 
he  added,  with  a  broken  voice.  "  Number  19,  Portman 
Square." 

I  suppose  he  had  expressed  himself  with  too  much 
energy  of  voice ;  for  the  woman  was  plainly  taken  with 
a  certain  fear  of  him.  "  Poor  gentleman ! "  said  she.  "  If 
I  were  you,  I  would  go  home."  And  she  left  him  stand- 
ing there  in  his  distress. 

"Home!"  thought  M'Guire,  "what  a  derision!" 
What  home  was  there  for  him,  the  victim  of  philan- 
thropy }  He  thought  of  his  old  mother,  of  his  happy 
youth;  of  the  hideous,  rending  pang  of  the  explosion; 

160 


ZERO'S  TALE   OF  THE  EXPLOSIVE   BOMB 

of  the  possibility  that  he  might  not  be  killed,  that  he 
might  be  cruelly  mangled,  crippled  for  life,  condemned 
to  life-long  pains,  blinded  perhaps,  and  almost  surely, 
deafened.  Ah,  you  spoke  lightly  of  the  dynamiter's 
peril;  but  even  waiving  death,  have  you  realised  what 
it  is  for  a  fine,  brave  young  man  of  forty,  to  be  smitten 
suddenly  with  deafness,  cut  off  from  all  the  music  of 
life,  and  from  the  voice  of  friendship  and  love  ?  How 
little  do  we  realise  the  sufferings  of  others !  Even  your 
brutal  Government,  in  the  heyday  of  its  lust  for  cruelty, 
though  it  scruples  not  to  hound  the  patriot  with  spies, 
to  pack  the  corrupt  jury,  to  bribe  the  hangman,  and  to 
erect  the  infamous  gallows,  would  hesitate  to  inflict  so 
horrible  a  doom :  not,  I  am  well  aware,  from  virtue,  not 
from  philanthropy,  but  with  the  fear  before  it  of  the 
withering  scorn  of  the  good. 

But  I  wander  from  M'Guire.  From  this  dread  glance 
into  the  past  and  future,  his  thoughts  returned  at  a 
bound  upon  the  present.  How  had  he  wandered  there  ? 
and  how  long  —  O  heavens!  how  long  had  he  been 
about  it  ?  He  pulled  out  his  watch ;  and  found  that  but 
three  minutes  had  elapsed.  It  seemed  too  bright  a  thing 
to  be  believed.  He  glanced  at  the  church  clock;  and 
sure  enough,  it  marked  an  hour  four  minutes  faster  than 
the  watch. 

Of  all  that  he  endured,  M'Guire  declares  that  pang 
was  the  most  desolate.  Till  then  he  had  had  one  friend, 
one  counselor,  in  whom  he  plenarily  trusted ;  by  whose 
advertisement,  he  numbered  the  minutes  that  remained 
to  him  of  life ;  on  whose  sure  testimony,  he  could  tell 
when  the  time  was  come  to  risk  the  last  adventure,  to 
cast  the  bag  away  from  him,  and  take  to  flight.     And 

i6i 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

now  in  what  was  he  to  place  reliance  ?  His  watch  was 
slow;  it  might  be  losing  time;  if  so,  in  what  degree  ? 
What  limit  could  he  set  to  its  derangement  ?  and  how 
much  was  it  possible  for  a  watch  to  lose  in  thirty  min- 
utes ?  Five  ?  ten  ?  fifteen  ?  It  might  be  so ;  already 
it  seemed  years  since  he  had  left  St.  James's  Hall  on 
this  so  promising  enterprise ;  at  any  moment,  then,  the 
blow  was  to  be  looked  for. 

In  the  face  of  this  new  distress,  the  wild  disorder  of 
his  pulses  settled  down ;  and  a  broken  weariness  suc- 
ceeded, as  though  he  had  lived  for  centuries  and  for 
centuries  been  dead.  The  buildings  and  the  people  in 
the  street  became  incredibly  small,  and  far-away,  and 
bright;  London  sounded  in  his  ears  stilly,  like  a  whis- 
per; and  the  rattle  of  the  cab  that  nearly  charged  him 
down,  was  like  a  sound  from  Africa.  Meanwhile,  he 
was  conscious  of  a  strange  abstraction  from  himself; 
and  heard  and  felt  his  footfalls  on  the  ground,  as  those 
of  a  very  old,  small,  debile  and  tragically  fortuned  man, 
whom  he  sincerely  pitied. 

As  he  was  thus  moving  forward  past  the  National 
Gallery,  in  a  medium,  it  seemed,  of  greater  rarity  and 
quiet  than  ordinary  air,  there  slipped  into  his  mind  the 
recollection  of  a  certain  entry  in  Whitcomb  Street  hard 
by,  where  he  might  perhaps  lay  down  his  tragic  cargo 
unremarked.  Thither,  then,  he  bent  his  steps,  seem- 
ing, as  he  went,  to  float  above  the  pavement ;  and  there, 
in  the  mouth  of  the  entry,  he  found  a  man  in  a  sleeved 
waistcoat,  gravely  chewing  a  straw.  He  passed  him  by, 
and  twice  patroled  the  entry,  scouting  for  the  barest 
chance ;  but  the  man  had  faced  about  and  continued  to 
observe  him  curiously. 

162 


ZERO'S  TALE  OF  THE  EXPLOSIVE   BOMB 

Another  hope  was  gone.  M'Guire  reissued  from  the 
entry,  still  followed  by  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  man 
in  the  sleeved  waistcoat.  He  once  more  consulted  his 
watch :  there  was  but  fourteen  minutes  left  to  him.  At 
that,  it  seemed  as  if  a  sudden,  genial  heat  were  spread 
about  his  brain ;  for  a  second  or  two,  he  saw  the  world 
as  red  as  blood;  and  thereafter  entered  into  a  complete 
possession  of  himself,  with  an  incredible  cheerfulness 
of  spirits,  prompting  him  to  sing  and  chuckle  as  he 
walked.  And  yet  this  mirth  seemed  to  belong  to  things 
external;  and  within  like  a  black  and  leaden-heavy 
kernel,  he  was  conscious  of  the  weight  upon  his  soul. 

I  care  for  nobody,  no,  not  I, 
And  nobody  cares  for  me, 

he  sang,  and  laughed  at  the  appropriate  burden,  so  that 
the  passengers  stared  upon  him  on  the  street.  And  still 
the  warmth  seemed  to  increase  and  to  become  more 
genial.  What  was  life  ?  he  considered,  and  what  he, 
M*Guire  ?  What  even  Erin,  our  green  Erin  ?  All 
seemed  so  incalculably  little  that  he  smiled  as  he  looked 
down  upon  it.  He  would  have  given  years,  had  he 
possessed  them,  for  a  glass  of  spirits ;  but  time  failed, 
and  he  must  deny  himself  this  last  indulgence. 

At  the  corner  of  the  Haymarket,  he  very  jauntily 
hailed  a  hansom  cab ;  jumped  in ;  bade  the  fellow  drive 
him  to  a  part  of  the  Embankment,  which  he  named; 
and  as  soon  as  the  vehicle  was  in  motion,  concealed  the 
bag  as  completely  as  he  could  under  the  vantage  of  the 
apron,  and  once  more  drew  out  his  watch.  So  he  rode 
for  five  interminable  minutes,  his  heart  in  his  mouth  at 
every  jolt,  scarce  able  to  possess  his  terrors,  yet  fearing 

163 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

to  wake  the  attention  of  the  driver  by  too  obvious  a 
change  of  plan,  and  willing,  if  possible,  to  leave  him 
time  to  forget  the  Gladstone  bag. 

At  length,  at  the  head  of  some  stairs  on  the  Embank- 
ment, he  hailed ;  the  cab  was  stopped,  and  he  alighted 
—  with  how  glad  a  heart !  He  thrust  his  hand  into  his 
pocket.  All  was  now  over;  he  had  saved  his  life;  nor 
that  alone,  but  he  had  engineered  a  striking  act  of  dy- 
namite; for  what  could  be  more  pictorial,  what  more 
effective,  than  the  explosion  of  a  hansom  cab  as  it  sped 
rapidly  along  the  streets  of  London.  He  felt  in  one 
pocket,  then  in  another.  The  most  crushing  seizure  of 
despair  descended  on  his  soul,  and  struck  into  abject 
dumbness,  he  stared  upon  the  driver.  He  had  not  one 
penny. 

"  Hillo,"  said  the  driver;  "  don't  seem  well." 

''Lost  my  money,"  said  M'Guire,  in  tones  so  faint 
and  strange  that  they  surprised  his  hearing. 

The  man  looked  through  the  trap.  *'  I  dessay,"  said 
he;  "you've  left  your  bag." 

M'Guire  half  unconsciously  fetched  it  out,  and  look- 
ing on  that  black  continent  at  arm's  length,  withered 
inwardly  and  felt  his  features  sharpen  as  with  mortal 
sickness. 

"This  is  not  mine,"  said  he.  "Your  last  fare  must 
have  left  it.     You  had  better  take  it  to  the  station." 

"Now  look  here,"  returned  the  cabman,  "are  you 
off  your  chump  }  or  am  I  ?  " 

"Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what,"  exclaimed  M'Guire, 
"  you  take  it  for  your  fare." 

' '  Oh,  I  dessay, "  replied  the  driver.  ' '  Anything  else  "^ 
What's  in  your  bag  ?    Open  it  and  let  me  see." 

164 


i 


ZERO'S  TALE   OF  THE  EXPLOSIVE   BOMB 

'*No,  no,"  returned  M'Guire.  *'Oh,  no,  not  that. 
It's  a  surprise;  it's  prepared  expressly;  a  surprise  for 
honest  cabmen." 

"No,  you  don't,"  said  the  man,  alighting  from  his 
perch,  and  coming  very  close  to  the  unhappy  patriot. 
"You're  either  going  to  pay  my  fare,  or  get  in  again 
and  drive  to  the  office." 

It  was  at  this  supreme  hour  of  his  distress  that 
M'Guire  spied  the  stout  figure  of  one  Godall,  a  tobac- 
conist of  Rupert  Street,  drawing  near  along  the  Embank- 
ment. The  man  was  not  unknown  to  him;  he  had 
bought  of  his  wares,  and  heard  him  quoted  for  the  soul 
of  liberality ;  and  such  was  now  the  nearness  of  his  peril 
that  even  at  such  a  straw  of  hope  he  clutched  with  grat- 
itude. 

" Thank  God!  "  he  cried.  "  Here  comes  a  friend  of 
mine.  I'll  borrow. "  And  he  dashed  to  meet  the  trades- 
man. "Sir,"  said  he,  "Mr.  Godall,  I  have  dealt  with 
you  —  you  doubtless  know  my  face  —  calamities  for 
which  I  cannot  blame  myself  have  overwhelmed  me. 
Oh,  sir,  for  the  love  of  innocence,  for  the  sake  of  the 
bonds  of  humanity,  and  as  you  hope  for  mercy  at  the 
throne  of  grace,  lend  me  two-and-six ! " 

"I  do  not  recognise  your  face,"  replied  Mr.  Godall; 
"but  I  remember  the  cut  of  your  beard,  which  I  have 
the  misfortune  to  dislike.  Here,  sir,  is  a  sovereign, 
which  I  very  willingly  advance  to  you  on  the  single 
condition  that  you  shave  your  chin." 

M'Guire  grasped  the  coin  without  a  word,  cast  it  to 
the  cabman,  calling  out  to  him  to  keep  the  change; 
bounded  down  the  steps,  flung  the  bag  far  forth  into 
the  river,  and  fell  headlong  after  it.     He  was  plucked 

i6^ 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

from  a  watery  grave,  it  is  believed,  by  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Godall.  Even  as  he  was  being  hoisted,  dripping,  to  the 
shore,  a  dull  and  choked  explosion  shook  the  solid  ma- 
sonry of  the  Embankment,  and  far  out  in  the  river  a 
momentary  fountain  rose  and  disappeared. 


1 66 


THE   SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

(Continued) 

Somerset  in  vain  strove  to  attach  a  meaning  to  these 
words.  He  had  in  the  meanwhile  applied  himself  assid- 
uously to  the  flagon ;  the  plotter  began  to  melt  in  twain, 
and  seemed  to  expand  and  hover  on  his  seat,  and  with 
a  vague  sense  of  nightmare,  the  young  man  rose  un- 
steadily to  his  feet,  and,  refusing  the  proffer  of  a  third 
grog,  insisted  that  the  hour  was  late  and  he  must  posi- 
tively go  to  bed. 

"Dear  me,"  observed  Zero,  **I  find  you  very  tem- 
perate. But  I  will  not  be  oppressive.  Suffice  it  that 
we  are  now  fast  friends ;  and,  my  dear  landlord,  au 
revoir  !  ' ' 

So  saying  the  plotter  once  more  shook  hands ;  and 
with  the  politest  ceremonies,  and  some  necessary  guid- 
ance, conducted  the  bewildered  young  gentleman  to  the 
top  of  the  stair. 

Precisely  how  he  got  to  bed  was  a  point  on  which 
Somerset  remained  in  utter  darkness;  but  the  next 
morning  when,  at  a  blow,  he  started  broad  awake,  there 
fell  upon  his  mind  a  perfect  hurricane  of  horror  and 
wonder.  That  he  should  have  suffered  himself  to  be 
led  into  the  semblance  of  intimacy  with  such  a  man  as 
his  abominable  lodger,  appeared,  in  the  cold  light  of 

167 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

day,  a  mystery  of  human  weakness.  True,  he  was 
caught  in  a  situation  that  might  have  tested  the  aplomb 
of  Talleyrand.  That  was  perhaps  a  palliation ;  but  it 
was  no  excuse.  For  so  wholesale  a  capitulation  of  prin- 
ciple, for  such  a  fall  into  criminal  familiarity,  no  excuse 
indeed  was  possible ;  nor  any  remedy,  but  to  withdraw 
at  once  from  the  relation. 

As  soon  as  he  was  dressed,  he  hurried  up  stairs,  de- 
termined on  a  rupture.  Zero  hailed  him  with  the  warmth 
of  an  old  friend. 

''Come  in,"  he  cried,  *'dear  Mr.  Somerset!  Come 
in,  sit  down,  and  without  ceremony,  join  me  at  my 
morning  meal." 

"Sir,"  said  Somerset,  "you  must  permit  me  first  to 
disengage  my  honour.  Last  night  I  was  surprised  into 
a  certain  appearance  of  complicity ;  but  once  for  all,  let 
me  inform  you  that  I  regard  you  and  your  machinations 
with  unmingled  horror  and  disgust,  and  I  will  leave  no 
stone  unturned  to  crush  your  vile  conspiracy." 

"My  dear  fellow,"  replied  Zero,  with  an  air  of  some 
complacency,  "I  am  well  accustomed  to  these  human 
weaknesses.  Disgust  ?  I  have  felt  it  myself;  it  speedily 
wears  off.  I  think  none  the  worse,  I  think  the  more  of 
you  for  this  engaging  frankness.  And  in  the  meanwhile, 
what  are  you  to  do  ?  You  find  yourself,  if  I  interpret 
rightly,  in  very  much  the  same  situation  as  Charles  the 
Second  (possibly  the  least  degraded  of  your  British  sov- 
ereigns) when  he  was  taken  into  the  confidence  of  the 
thief  To  denounce  me,  is  out  of  the  question;  and 
what  else  can  you  attempt  ?  No,  dear  Mr.  Somerset, 
your  hands  are  tied;  and  you  find  yourself  condemned, 
under  pain  of  behaving  like  a  cad,  to  be  that  same  charm- 

168 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

ing  and  intellectual  companion  who  delighted  me  last 
night." 

''At  least,"  cried  Somerset,  '*]  can  and  do  order  you 
to  leave  this  house. " 

"Ah!"  cried  the  plotter,  "but  there  I  fail  to  follow 
you.  You  may,  if  you  choose,  enact  the  part  of  Judas; 
but  if,  as  I  suppose,  you  recoil  from  that  extremity  of 
meanness,  I  am,  on  my  side,  far  too  intelligent  to  leave 
these  lodgings,  in  which  I  please  myself  exceedingly, 
and  from  which  you  lack  the  power  to  drive  me.  No, 
no,  dear  sir;  here  I  am,  and  here  I  propose  to  stay." 

"I  repeat,"  cried  Somerset,  beside  himself  with  a 
sense  of  his  own  weakness,  "I  repeat  that  I  give  you 
warning.  I  am  master  of  this  house;  and  I  emphati- 
cally give  you  warning." 

"A  week's  warning?"  said  the  imperturbable  con- 
spirator. "Very  well;  we  will  talk  of  it  a  week  from 
now.  That  is  arranged;  and  in  the  meanwhile,  1  ob- 
serve my  breakfast  growing  cold.  Do,  dear  Mr.  Som- 
erset, since  you  find  yourself  condemned,  for  a  week  at 
least,  to  the  society  of  a  very  interesting  character,  dis- 
play some  of  that  open  favour,  some  of  that  interest  in 
life's  obscurer  sides,  which  stamp  the  character  of  the 
true  artist.  Hang  me,  if  you  will,  to-morrow ;  but  to- 
day show  yourself  divested  of  the  scruples  of  the  bur- 
gess, and  sit  down  pleasantly  to  share  my  meal." 

"Man!"  cried  Somerset,  "do  you  understand  my 
sentiments  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  replied  Zero;  "and  I  respect  them! 
Would  you  be  outdone  in  such  a  contest  ?  will  you 
alone  be  partial  ?  and  in  this  nineteenth  century,  can- 
not two  gentlemen  of  education  agree  to  differ  on  a 

169 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

point  of  politics  ?  Come,  sir;  all  your  hard  words  have 
left  me  smiling;  judge  then,  which  of  us  is  the  phi- 
losopher!" 

Somerset  was  a  young  man  of  a  very  tolerant  dis- 
position and  by  nature  easily  amenable  to  sophistry. 
He  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  and 
took  the  seat  to  which  the  conspirator  invited  him. 
The  meal  was  excellent;  the  host  not  only  affable,  but 
primed  with  curious  information.  He  seemed,  indeed, 
like  one  who  had  too  long  endured  the  torture  of  silence, 
to  exult  in  the  most  wholesale  disclosures.  The  inter- 
est of  what  he  had  to  tell,  was  great;  his  character, 
besides,  developed  step  by  step ;  and  Somerset,  as  the 
time  fled,  not  only  outgrew  some  of  the  discomfort  of 
his  false  position,  but  began  to  regard  the  conspirator 
with  a  familiarity  that  verged  upon  contempt.  In  any 
circumstances,  he  had  a  singular  inability  to  leave  the 
society  in  which  he  found  himself ;  company,  even  if 
distasteful,  held  him  captive  like  a  limed  sparrow;  and 
on  this  occasion,  he  suffered  hour  to  follow  hour,  was 
easily  persuaded  to  sit  down  once  more  to  table,  and 
did  not  even  attempt  to  withdraw,  till,  on  the  approach 
of  evening,  Zero,  with  many  apologies,  dismissed  his 
guest.  His  fellow-conspirators,  the  dynamiter  hand- 
somely explained,  as  they  were  unacquainted  with  the 
sterling  qualities  of  the  young  man,  would  be  alarmed 
at  the  sight  of  a  strange  face. 

As  soon  as  he  was  alone,  Somerset  fell  back  upon  the 
humour  of  the  morning.  He  raged  at  the  thought  of 
his  facility;  he  paced  the  dining-room,  forming  the 
sternest  resolutions  for  the  future ;  he  wrung  the  hand 
which  had  been  dishonoured  by  the  touch  of  an  assassin; 

170 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION 

and  among  all  these  whirling  thoughts,  there  flashed  in, 
from  time  to  time,  and  ever  with  a  chill  of  fear,  the 
thought  of  the  confounded  ingredients  with  which  the 
house  was  stored.  A  powder-magazine  seemed  a  se- 
cure smoking-room  alongside  of  the  Superfluous  Man- 
sion. 

He  sought  refuge  in  flight,  in  locomotion,  in  the 
flowing  bowl.  As  long  as  the  bars  were  open,  he 
travelled  from  one  to  another,  seeking  light,  safety  and 
the  companionship  of  human  faces;  when  these  re- 
sources failed  him,  he  fell  back  on  the  belated  baked- 
potato  man;  and  at  length,  still  pacing  the  streets,  he 
was  goaded  to  fraternise  with  the  police.  Alas,  with 
what  a  sense  of  guilt  he  conversed  with  these  guardians 
of  the  law ;  how  gladly  had  he  wept  upon  their  ample 
bosoms;  and  how  the  secret  fluttered  to  his  lips  and 
was  still  denied  an  exit!  Fatigue  began  at  last  to 
triumph  over  remorse;  and  about  the  hour  of  the  first 
milkman,  he  returned  to  the  door  of  the  mansion; 
looked  at  it  with  a  horrid  expectation,  as  though  it 
should  have  burst  that  instant  into  flames;  drew  out 
his  key,  and  when  his  foot  already  rested  on  the  steps, 
once  more  lost  heart  and  fled  for  repose  to  the  grisly 
shelter  of  a  coffee-shop. 

It  was  on  the  stroke  of  noon  when  he  awoke.  Dis- 
mally searching  in  his  pockets,  he  found  himself  reduced 
to  half-a-crown ;  and  when  he  had  paid  the  price  of  his 
distasteful  couch,  saw  himself  obliged  to  return  to  the 
Superfluous  Mansion.  He  sneaked  into  the  hall,  and 
stole  on  tiptoe  to  the  cupboard  where  he  kept  his 
money.  Yet  half  a  minute,  he  told  himself,  and  he 
would  be  free  for  days  from  his  obseding  lodger,  and 

171 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

might  decide  at  leisure  on  the  course  he  should  pursue. 
But  fate  had  otherwise  designed;  there  came  a  tap  at 
the  door  and  Zero  entered. 

"Have  I  caught  you.?"  he  cried,  with  innocent 
gayety.  '*Dear  fellow,  I  was  growing  quite  impa- 
tient." And  on  the  speaker's  somewhat  stolid  face, 
there  came  a  glow  of  genuine  affection.  ''I  am  so  long 
unused  to  have  a  friend,"  he  continued,  *'that  I  begin 
to  be  afraid  I  may  prove  jealous."  And  he  wrung  the 
hand  of  his  landlord. 

Somerset  was,  of  all  men,  least  fit  to  deal  with  such  a 
greeting.  To  reject  these  kind  advances  was  beyond 
his  strength.  That  he  could  not  return  cordiality  for 
cordiality,  was  already  almost  more  than  he  could  carry. 
That  inequality  between  kind  sentiments,  which,  to  gen- 
erous characters,  will  always  seem  to  be  a  sort  of  guilt, 
oppressed  him  to  the  ground;  and  he  stammered  vague 
and  lying  words. 

''That  is  all  right,"  cried  Zero — ''that  is  as  it  should 
be  —  say  no  more !  I  had  a  vague  alarm ;  I  feared  you 
had  deserted  me ;  but  I  now  own  that  fear  to  have  been 
unworthy,  and  apologise.  To  doubt  of  your  forgive- 
ness were  to  repeat  my  sin.  Come,  then ;  dinner  waits ; 
join  me  again  and  tell  me  your  adventures  of  the  night." 

Kindness  still  sealed  the  lips  of  Somerset;  and  he  suf- 
fered himself  once  more  to  be  set  down  to  table  with 
his  innocent  and  criminal  acquaintance.  Once  more, 
the  plotter  plunged  up  to  the  neck  in  damaging  disclos- 
ures :  now  it  would  be  the  name  and  biography  of  an 
individual,  now  the  address  of  some  important  center, 
that  rose,  as  if  by  accident,  upon  his  lips;  and  each 
word  was  like  another  turn  of  the  thumbscrew  to  his 

172 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

unhappy  guest.  Finally,  the  course  of  Zero's  bland 
monologue  led  him  to  the  young  lady  of  two  days  ago : 
that  young  lady,  who  had  flashed  on  Somerset  for  so 
brief  a  while  but  with  so  conquering  a  charm;  and 
whose  engaging  grace,  communicative  eyes,  and  ad- 
mirable conduct  of  the  sweeping  skirt,  remained  im- 
printed on  his  memory. 

"  You  saw  her  ?  "  said  Zero.  **  Beautiful,  is  she  not  ? 
She,  too,  is  one  of  ours:  a  true  enthusiast:  nervous, 
perhaps,  in  presence  of  the  chemicals ;  but  in  matters  of 
intrigue,  the  very  soul  of  skill  and  daring.  Lake,  Fon- 
blanque,  de  Marly,  Valdevia,  such  are  some  of  the  names 
that  she  employs ;  her  true  name  —  but  there,  perhaps, 
I  go  too  far.  Suffice  it,  that  it  is  to  her  I  owe  my  pres- 
ent lodging  and,  dear  Somerset,  the  pleasure  of  your 
acquaintance.  It  appears  she  knew  the  house.  You  see, 
dear  fellow,  I  make  no  concealment:  all  that  you  can 
care  to  hear,  I  tell  you  openly." 

"For  God's  sake,"  cried  the  wretched  Somerset, 
'*  hold  your  tongue!  You  cannot  imagine  how  you  tor- 
ture me ! " 

A  shade  of  serious  discomposure  crossed  the  open 
countenance  of  Zero. 

** There  are  times,"  he  said,  "  when  I  begin  to  fancy 
that  you  do  not  like  me.  Why,  why,  dear  Somerset, 
this  lack  of  cordiality  ?  I  am  depressed ;  the  touch- 
stone of  my  life  draws  near;  and  if  I  fail " —  he  gloomily 
nodded  — *  *  from  all  the  height  of  my  ambitious  schemes, 
I  fall,  dear  boy,  into  contempt.  These  are  grave  thoughts, 
and  you  may  judge  my  need  of  your  delightful  com- 
pany. Innocent  prattler,  you  relieve  the  weight  of  my 
concerns.     And  yet  .  .  .  and  yet  ..."    The  speaker 

»73 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

pushed  away  his  plate,  and  rose  from  table.  "  Follow 
me,"  said  he,  "  follow  me.  My  mood  is  on ;  I  must  have 
air,  I  must  behold  the  plain  of  battle." 

So  saying,  he  led  the  way  hurriedly  to  the  top  flat 
of  the  mansion,  and  thence,  by  ladder  and  trap,  to  a 
certain  leaded  platform,  sheltered  at  one  end  by  a  great 
stalk  of  chimneys  and  occupying  the  actual  summit  of 
the  roof.  On  both  sides,  it  bordered,  without  parapet 
or  rail,  on  the  incline  of  slates ;  and,  northward  above 
all,  commanded  an  extensive  view  of  housetops,  and 
rising  through  the  smoke,  the  distant  spires  of  churches. 

**Here,"  cried  Zero,  **you  behold  this  field  of  city, 
rich,  crowded,  laughing  with  the  spoil  of  continents; 
but  soon,  how  soon,  to  be  laid  low!  Some  day,  some 
night,  from  this  coign  of  vantage,  you  shall  perhaps  be 
startled  by  the  detonation  of  the  judgment  gun  —  not 
sharp  and  empty  like  the  crack  of  cannon,  but  deep- 
mouthed  and  unctuously  solemn.  Instantly  thereafter, 
you  shall  behold  the  flames  break  forth.  Ay,"  he  cried, 
stretching  forth  his  hand,  **ay,  that  will  be  a  day  of 
retribution.  Then  shall  the  pallid  constable  flee  side  by 
side  with  the  detected  thief  Blaze! "  he  cried,  *' blaze, 
derided  city!  Fall,  flatulent  monarchy,  fall  like  Dagon! " 

With  these  words  his  foot  slipped  upon  the  lead ;  and 
but  for  Somerset's  quickness,  he  had  been  instantly  pre- 
cipitated into  space.  Pale  as  a  sheet,  and  limp  as  a 
pocket-handkerchief,  he  was  dragged  from  the  edge  of 
downfall  by  one  arm ;  helped,  or  rather  carried,  down 
the  ladder;  and  deposited  in  safety  on  the  attic  landing. 
Here  he  began  to  come  to  himself,  wiped  his  brow,  and 
at  length,  seizing  Somerset's  hand  in  both  of  his,  began 
to  utter  his  acknowledgments. 

'74 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

"  This  seals  it, "  said  he.  Ours  is  a  life  and  death  con- 
nection. You  have  plucked  me  from  the  jaws  of  death ; 
and  if  I  were  before  attracted  by  your  character,  judge 
now  of  the  ardour  of  my  gratitude  and  love  ?  But  I  per- 
ceive I  am  still  greatly  shaken.  Lend  me,  I  beseech 
you,  lend  me  your  arm  as  far  as  my  apartment." 

A  dram  of  spirits  restored  the  plotter  to  something  of 
his  customary  self-possession;  and  he  was  standing, 
glass  in  hand  and  genially  convalescent,  when  his  eye  was 
attracted  by  the  dejection  of  the  unfortunate  young  man. 

**Good  heavens,  dear  Somerset,"  he  cried,  "what 
ails  you  ?    Let  me  offer  you  a  touch  of  spirits." 

But  Somerset  had  fallen  below  the  reach  of  this  mate- 
rial comfort. 

•'  Let  me  be,"  he  said,  "  I  am  lost;  you  have  caught 
me  in  the  toils.  Up  to  this  moment  I  have  lived  all  my 
life  in  the  most  reckless  manner,  and  done  exactly  what 
I  pleased,  with  the  most  perfect  innocence.  And  now 
— what  am  I  ?  Are  you  so  blind  and  wooden  that  you 
do  not  see  the  loathing  you  inspire  me  with  ?  Is  it  pos- 
sible you  can  suppose  me  willing  to  continue  to  exist 
upon  such  terms  ?  To  think,"  he  cried,  **that  a  young 
man,  guilty  of  no  fault  on  earth  but  amiability,  should 
find  himself  involved  in  such  a  damned  imbroglio !  "  and 
placing  his  knuckles  in  his  eyes,  Somerset  rolled  upon 
the  sofa. 

'*My  God,"  said  Zero,  'Ms  this  possible.?  And  I  so 
filled  with  tenderness  and  interest!  Can  it  be,  dear 
Somerset,  that  you  are  under  the  empire  of  these  out- 
worn scruples  ?  or  that  you  judge  a  patriot  by  the  mo- 
rality of  the  religious  tract  ?  I  thought  you  were  a  good 
agnostic." 

i75 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

"Mr.  Jones,"  said  Somerset,  **it  is  in  vain  to  argue. 
I  boast  myself  a  total  disbeliever  not  only  in  revealed  re- 
ligion, but  in  the  data,  method  and  conclusions  of  the 
whole  of  ethics.  Well !  what  matters  it  ?  what  signi- 
fies a  form  of  words  ?  I  regard  you  as  a  reptile,  whom 
I  would  rejoice,  whom  I  long,  to  stamp  under  my  heel. 
You  would  blow  up  others  ?  Well  then,  understand : 
I  want,  with  every  circumstance  of  infamy  and  agony, 
to  blow  up  you ! " 

** Somerset,  Somerset!  "  said  Zero,  turning  very  pale, 
*'this  is  wrong;  this  is  very  wrong.  You  pain,  you 
wound  me,  Somerset." 

"  Give  me  a  match! "  cried  Somerset  wildly.  "  Let 
me  set  fire  to  this  incomparable  monster !  Let  me  perish 
with  him  in  his  fall ! " 

*' For  God's  sake,"  cried  Zero,  clutching  hold  of  the 
young  man,  ''for  God's  sake  command  yourself!  We 
stand  upon  the  brink;  death  yawns  around  us;  a  man 
— a  stranger  in  this  foreign  land — one  whom  you  have 
called  your  friend  —  " 

''Silence!"  cried  Somerset,  "you  are  no  friend,  no 
friend  of  mine.  I  look  on  you  with  loathing,  like  a  toad : 
my  flesh  creeps  with  physical  repulsion ;  my  soul  revolts 
against  the  sight  of  you. " 

Zero  burst  into  tears.  "Alas!"  he  sobbed,  "this 
snaps  the  last  link  that  bound  me  to  humanity.  My 
friend  disowns  —  he  insults  me.  I  am  indeed  ac- 
cursed." 

Somerset  stood  for  an  instant  staggered  by  this  sud- 
den change  of  front.  The  next  moment,  with  a  de- 
spairing gesture,  he  fled  from  the  room  and  from  the 
house.     The  first  dash  of  his  escape  carried  him  hard 

176 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION 

Upon  half-way  to  the  next  police  office ;  but  presently 
he  began  to  droop ;  and  before  he  reached  the  house  of 
lawful  intervention,  he  fell  once  more  among  doubtful 
counsels.  Was  he  an  agnostic  ?  had  he  a  right  to  act  ? 
Away  with  such  nonsense,  and  let  Zero  perish!  ran  his 
thoughts.  And  then  again :  had  he  not  promised,  had 
he  not  shaken  hands  and  broken  bread  ?  and  that  with 
open  eyes  ?  and  if  so  how  could  he  take  action,  and  not 
forfeit  honour  ?  But  honour !  what  was  honour  ?  A  fig- 
ment, which,  in  the  hot  pursuit  of  crime  he  ought  to 
dash  aside.  Ay,  but  crime  ?  A  figment,  too,  which  his 
enfranchised  intellect  discarded.  All  day  he  wandered 
in  the  parks,  a  prey  to  whirling  thoughts ;  all  night,  pa- 
troled  the  city ;  and  at  the  peep  of  day  he  sat  down  by 
the  wayside  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Peckham  and  bit- 
terly wept.  His  gods  had  fallen.  He  who  had  chosen 
the  broad,  daylighted,  unencumbered  paths  of  universal 
skepticism,  found  himself  still  the  bond  slave  of  honour. 
He  who  had  accepted  life  from  a  point  of  view  as  lofty 
as  the  predatory  eagle's,  though  with  no  design  to  prey ; 
he  who  had  clearly  recognised  the  common  moral  basis 
of  war,  of  commercial  competition,  and  of  crime;  he 
who  was  prepared  to  help  the  escaping  murderer  or  to 
embrace  the  impenitent  thief,  found,  to  the  overthrow  of 
all  his  logic,  that  he  objected  to  the  use  of  dynamite. 
The  dawn  crept  among  the  sleeping  villas  and  over  the 
smokeless  fields  of  city ;  and  still  the  unfortunate  skeptic 
sobbed  over  his  fall  from  consistency. 

At  length,  he  rose  and  took  the  rising  sun  to  witness. 
*'  There  is  no  question  as  to  fact,"  he  cried ;  "  right  and 
wrong  are  but  figments  and  the  shadow  of  a  word;  but 
for  all  that,  there  are  certain  things  that  I  cannot  do,  and 

'77 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

there  are  certain  others  that  I  will  not  stand."  There- 
upon he  decided  to  return,  to  make  one  last  effort  of 
persuasion,  and,  if  he  could  not  prevail  on  Zero  to  desist 
from  his  infernal  trade,  throw  delicacy  to  the  winds, 
give  the  plotter  an  hour's  start,  and  denounce  him  to  the 
police.  Fast  as  he  went,  being  winged  by  this  resolu- 
tion, it  was  already  well  on  in  the  morning,  when  he 
came  in  sight  of  the  Superfluous  Mansion.  Tripping 
down  the  steps,  was  the  young  lady  of  the  various 
aliases ;  and  he  was  surprised  to  see  upon  her  counte- 
nance the  marks  of  anger  and  concern. 

*' Madam,"  he  began,  yielding  to  impulse  and  with 
no  clear  knowledge  of  what  he  was  to  add. 

But  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  seemed  to  experience 
a  shock  of  fear  or  horror;  started  back ;  lowered  her  veil 
with  a  sudden  movement;  and  fled,  without  turning, 
from  the  square. 

Here  then,  we  step  aside  a  moment  from  following 
the  fortunes  of  Somerset,  and  proceed  to  relate  the 
strange  and  romantic  episode  of  The  Brown  Box. 


178 


desborough's  adventure:  the  brown  box 


Mr.  Harry  Desborough  lodged  in  the  fine  and  grave 
old  quarter  of  Bloomsbury,  roared  about  on  every  side 
by  the  high  tides  of  London,  but  itself  rejoicing  in  ro- 
mantic silence  and  city  peace.  It  was  in  Queen  Square 
that  he  had  pitched  his  tent,  next  door  to  the  Children's 
Hospital,  on  your  left  hand  as  you  go  north :  Queen 
Square,  sacred  to  humane  and  liberal  arts,  whence  homes 
were  made  beautiful,  where  the  poor  were  taught,  where 
the  sparrows  were  plentiful  and  loud,  and  where  groups 
of  patient  little  ones  would  hover  all  day  long  before  the 
hospital,  if  by  chance  they  might  kiss  their  hand  or  speak 
a  word  to  their  sick  brother  at  the  window.  Desbor- 
ough's  room  was  on  the  first  floor  and  fronted  to  the 
square;  but  he  enjoyed  besides,  a  right  by  which  he 
often  profited,  to  sit  and  smoke  upon  a  terrace  at  the 
back,  which  looked  down  upon  a  fine  forest  of  back 
gardens,  and  was  in  turn  commanded  by  the  windows 
of  an  empty  room. 

On  the  afternoon  of  a  warm  day,  Desborough  saun- 
tered forth  upon  this  terrace,  somewhat  out  of  hope  and 
heart,  for  he  had  been  now  some  weeks  on  the  vain 
quest  of  situations,  and  prepared  for  melancholy  and  to- 
bacco.    Here,  at  least,  he  told  himself  that  he  would  be 

179 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

alone;  for,  like  most  youths,  who  are  neither  rich,  nor 
witty,  nor  successful,  he  rather  shunned  than  courted 
the  society  of  other  men.  Even  as  he  expressed  the 
thought  his  eye  alighted  on  the  window  of  the  room 
that  looked  upon  the  terrace;  and  to  his  surprise  and 
annoyance,  he  beheld  it  curtained  with  a  silken  hang- 
ing. It  was  like  his  luck,  he  thought ;  his  privacy  was 
gone,  he  could  no  longer  brood  and  sigh  unwatched, 
he  could  no  longer  suffer  his  discouragement  to  find  a 
vent  in  words  or  soothe  himself  with  sentimental  whist- 
ling; and  in  the  irritation  of  the  moment  he  struck  his 
pipe  upon  the  rail  with  unnecessary  force.  It  was  an 
old,  sweet,  seasoned  brier-root,  glossy  and  dark  with 
long  employment  and  justly  dear  to  his  fancy.  What, 
then,  was  his  chagrin,  when  the  head  snapped  from  the 
stem,  leaped  airily  in  space,  and  fell  and  disappeared 
among  the  lilacs  of  the  garden  ? 

He  threw  himself  savagely  into  the  garden  chair, 
pulled  out  the  story-paper  which  he  had  brought  with 
him  to  read,  tore  off  a  fragment  of  the  last  sheet,  which 
contains  only  the  answers  to  correspondents,  and  set 
himself  to  roll  a  cigarette.  He  was  no  master  of  the  art ; 
again  and  again,  the  paper  broke  between  his  fingers 
and  the  tobacco  showered  upon  the  ground;  and  he 
was  already  on  the  point  of  angry  resignation,  when  the 
window  swung  slowly  inward,  the  silken  curtain  was 
thrust  aside,  and  a  lady,  somewhat  strangely  attired, 
stepped  forth  upon  the  terrace. 

"Senorito,"  said  she,  and  there  was  a  rich  thrill  in 
her  voice,  like  an  organ  note,  ''Senorito,  you  are  in  dif- 
ficulties.    Suffer  me  to  come  to  your  assistance." 

With  the  words,  she  took  the  paper  and  tobacco  from 
180 


THE  BROWN   BOX 

his  unresisting  hands ;  and  with  a  facility  that,  in  Des- 
borough's  eyes,  seemed  magical,  rolled  and  presented 
him  a  cigarette.  He  took  it,  still  without  a  word ;  staring 
with  all  his  eyes  upon  that  apparition.  Her  face  was 
warm  and  rich  in  colour;  in  shape,  it  was  the  kitten 
face,  that  piquant  triangle,  so  mysterious,  so  pleasingly 
attractive,  so  rare  in  our  more  northern  climates;  her 
eyes  were  large,  starry  and  visited  by  changing  lights ; 
her  hair  was  partly  covered  by  a  lace  mantilla,  through 
which  her  arms,  bare  to  the  shoulder,  gleamed  white ; 
her  figure,  full  and  soft  in  all  the  womanly  contours,  was 
yet  alive  and  active,  light  with  excess  of  life,  and  slender 
by  grace  of  some  divine  proportion. 

"You  do  not  like  my  cigarrito,  Senor?"  she  asked. 
''  Yet  it  is  better  made  than  yours."  At  that  she  laughed, 
and  her  laughter  trilled  in  his  ear  like  music ;  but  the 
next  moment  her  face  fell.  "I  see,"  she  cried.  ** It  is 
my  manner  that  repels  you.  I  am  too  constrained,  too 
cold.  1  am  not,"  she  added,  with  a  more  engaging  air, 
**  I  am  not  the  simple  English  maiden  I  appear." 

''Oh!"  murmured  Harry,  filled  with  inexpressible 
thoughts. 

**In  my  own  dear  land,"  she  pursued,  ''things  are 
differently  ordered.  There,  I  must  own,  a  girl  is  bound 
by  many  and  rigorous  restrictions;  little  is  permitted 
her ;  she  learns  to  be  distant,  she  learns  to  appear  for- 
bidding. But  here,  in  free  England  —  O  glorious  lib- 
erty," she  cried,  and  threw  up  her  arms  with  a  gesture  of 
inimitable  grace —  "here  there  are  no  fetters;  here  the 
woman  may  dare  to  be  herself  entirely,  and  the  men,  the 
chivalrous  men  —  is  it  not  written  on  the  very  shield  of 
your  nation,  boni  soit  ?    Ah,  it  is  hard  for  me  to  learn, 

i8i 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

hard  for  me  to  dare  to  be  myself.  You  must  not  judge 
me  yet  awhile ;  I  shall  end  by  conquering  this  stiffness, 
I  shall  end  by  growing  English.  Do  I  speak  the  language 
well?" 

"Perfectly  —  oh,  perfectly  !  "  said  Harry,  with  a  fer- 
vency of  conviction  worthy  of  a  graver  subject. 

**Ah,  then,"  she  said,  ''I  shall  soon  learn;  English 
blood  ran  in  my  father's  veins ;  and  I  have  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  some  training  in  your  expressive  tongue.  If 
I  speak  already  without  accent,  with  my  thorough  En- 
glish appearance,  there  is  nothing  left  to  change  except 
my  manners." 

*'0h  no,"  said  Desborough.  *'0h  pray  not !  I  — 
madam " 

'Mam,"  interrupted  the  lady,  "the  Senorita  Teresa 
Valdevia.  The  evening  air  grows  chill.  Adios,  Se- 
norito."  And  before  Harry  could  stammer  out  a  word, 
she  had  disappeared  into  her  room. 

He  stood  transfixed,  the  cigarette  still  unlighted  in 
his  hand.  His  thoughts  had  soared  above  tobacco,  and 
still  recalled  and  beautified  the  image  of  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. Her  voice  re-echoed  in  his  memory;  her 
eyes,  of  which  he  could  not  tell  the  colour,  haunted  his 
soul.  The  clouds  had  risen  at  her  coming,  and  he  be- 
held a  new-created  world.  What  she  was,  he  could 
not  fancy,  but  he  adored  her.  Her  age,  he  durst  not 
estimate;  fearing  to  find  her  older  than  himself,  and 
thinking  sacrilege  to  couple  that  fair  favour  with  the 
thought  of  mortal  changes.  As  for  her  character,  beauty 
to  the  young  is  always  good.  So  the  poor  lad  lingered 
late  upon  the  terrace,  stealing  timid  glances  at  the  cur- 
tained window,  sighing  to  the  'gold  laburnums,  rapt 

182 


THE  BROWN   BOX 

into  the  country  of  romance;  and  when  at  length  he 
entered  and  sat  down  to  dine,  on  cold  boiled  mutton 
and  a  pint  of  ale,  he  feasted  on  the  food  of  gods. 

Next  day  when  he  returned  to  the  terrace,  the  win- 
dow was  a  little  ajar  and  he  enjoyed  a  view  of  the  lady's 
shoulder,  as  she  sat  patiently  sewing  and  all  unconscious 
of  his  presence.  On  the  next,  he  had  scarce  appeared 
when  the  window  opened,  and  the  Senorita  tripped 
forth  into  the  sunlight,  in  a  morning  disorder,  delicately 
neat,  and  yet  somehow  foreign,  tropical  and  strange. 
In  one  hand  she  held  a  packet. 

*' Will  you  try,"  she  said,  ''some  of  my  father's  to- 
bacco—  from  dear  Cuba?  There,  as  1  suppose  you 
know,  all  smoke,  ladies  as  well  as  gentlemen.  So  you 
need  not  fear  to  annoy  me.  The  fragrance  will  remind 
me  of  home.  My  home,  Sefior,  was  by  the  sea."  And 
as  she  uttered  these  few  words,  Desborough,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  realized  the  poetry  of  the  great  deep. 
"Awake  or  asleep,  I  dream  of  it;  dear  home,  dear  Cuba!" 

"But  some  day,"  said  Desborough,  with  an  inward 
pang,  "  some  day  you  will  return  ?  " 

* '  Never  ! "  she  cried ;  "ah,  never,  in  Heaven's  name  I " 

"Are  you  then  resident  for  life  in  England?"  he  in- 
quired, with  a  strange  lightening  of  spirit. 

"  You  ask  too  much,  for  you  ask  more  than  I  know," 
she  answered,  sadly ;  and  then,  resuming  her  gayety  of 
manner:  "  But  you  have  not  tried  my  Cuban  tobacco," 
she  said. 

"  Senorita,"  said  he,  shyly  abashed  by  some  shadow 
of  coquetry  in  her  manner,  "  whatever  comes  to  me  — 
you  —  I  mean,"  he  concluded,  deeply  flushing,  "that  I 
have  no  doubt  the  tobacco  is  delightful." 

.83 


MORE   NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

''Ah,  Senor,"  she  said,  with  almost  mournful  gravity, 
"you  seemed  so  simple  and  good,  and  already  you  are 
trying  to  pay  compliments  —  and  besides,"  she  added, 
brightening,  with  a  quick,  upward  glance,  into  a  smile, 
"you  do  it,  oh,  so  badly  !  English  gentlemen,  I  used 
to  hear,  could  be  fast  friends,  respectful,  honest  friends ; 
could  be  companions,  comforters,  if  the  need  arose,  or 
champions,  and  yet  never  encroach.  Do  not  seek  to 
please  me  by  copying  the  graces  of  my  countrymen. 
Be  yourself;  the  frank,  kindly,  honest  English  gentle- 
man that  I  have  heard  of  since  my  childhood  and  still 
long  to  meet." 

Harry,  much  bewildered,  and  far  from  clear  as  to  the 
manners  of  the  Cuban  gentleman,  strenuously  disclaimed 
the  thought  of  plagiarism. 

"Your  national  seriousness  of  bearing  best  becomes 
you,  Senor,"  said  the  lady.  "See!"  marking  a  line 
with  her  dainty,  slippered  foot,  "thus  far  it  shall  be 
common  ground ;  there,  at  my  window-sill,  begins  the 
scientific  frontier.  If  you  choose,  you  may  drive  me  to 
my  forts;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  to  be  real 
English  friends,  I  may  join  you  here  when  I  am  not  too 
sad;  or,  when  I  am  yet  more  graciously  inclined,  you 
may  draw  your  chair  beside  the  window  and  teach  me 
English  customs,  while  I  work.  You  will  find  me  an 
apt  scholar,  for  my  heart  is  in  the  task."  She  laid  her 
hand  lightly  upon  Harry's  arm,  and  looked  into  his  eyes. 
"Do  you  know,"  said  she,  "I  am  emboldened  to  be- 
lieve that  I  have  already  caught  something  of  your  Eng- 
lish aplomb  ?  Do  you  not  perceive  a  change,  Senor  ? 
Slight,  perhaps,  but  still  a  change  ?  Is  my  deportment 
not  more  open,  more  free,  more  like  that  of  the  dear 

184 


THE  BROWN   BOX 

'British  Miss,'  than  when  you  saw  me  first?"  She 
gave  a  radiant  smile;  withdrew  her  hand  from  Har- 
ry's arm ;  and  before  the  young  man  could  formulate  in 
words  the  eloquent  emotions  that  ran  riot  through  his 
brain — with  an  "Adios,  Sefior:  good-night,  my  English 
friend,"  she  vanished  from  his  sight  behind  the  curtain. 

The  next  day,  Harry  consumed  an  ounce  of  tobacco 
in  vain  upon  the  neutral  terrace ;  neither  sight  nor  sound 
rewarded  him,  and  the  dinner-hour  summoned  him  at 
length  from  the  scene  of  disappointment.  On  the  next, 
it  rained;  but  nothing,  neither  business  nor  weather, 
neither  prospective  poverty  nor  present  hardship,  could 
now  divert  the  young  man  from  the  service  of  his  lady ; 
and  wrapped  in  a  long  ulster,  with  the  collar  raised,  he 
took  his  stand  against  the  balustrade,  awaiting  fortune, 
the  picture  of  damp  and  discomfort  to  the  eye,  but 
glowing  inwardly  with  tender  and  delightful  ardours. 
Presently  the  window  opened ;  and  the  fair  Cuban,  with 
a  smile  imperfectly  dissembled,  appeared  upon  the  sill. 

''Come  here,"  she  said,  "here,  beside  my  window. 
The  small  veranda  gives  a  belt  of  shelter."  And  she 
graciously  handed  him  a  folding-chair. 

As  he  sat  down,  visibly  aglow  with  shyness  and  de- 
light, a  certain  bulkiness  in  his  pocket  reminded  him 
that  he  was  not  come  empty-handed. 

'*  I  have  taken  the  liberty,"  said  he,  ''  of  bringing  you 
a  little  book.  1  thought  of  you,  when  I  observed  it  on 
the  stall,  because  I  saw  it  was  in  Spanish.  The  man 
assured  me  it  was  by  one  of  the  best  authors,  and  quite 
proper."  As  he  spoke,  he  placed  a  little  volume  in  her 
hand.  Her  eyes  fell  as  she  turned  the  pages,  and  a 
flush  rose  and  died  again  upon  her  cheeks,  as  deep  as  it 

185 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

was  fleeting.     "  You  are  angry,"  he  cried  in  agony.  *'  I 
have  presumed!" 

"No,  Senor,  it  is  not  that,"  returned  the  lady.  "  I " 
—  and  a  flood  of  colour  once  more  mounted  to  her  brow 
— "  I  am  confused  and  ashamed  because  1  have  deceived 
you.  Spanish,"  she  began,  and  paused —  "Spanish  is  of 
course  my  native  tongue,"  she  resumed,  as  though  sud- 
denly taking  courage ;  "and  this  should  certainly  put  the 
highest  value  on  your  thoughtful  present;  but  alas,  sir,  of 
what  use  is  it  to  me  ?  And  how  shall  I  confess  to  you  the 
truth  —  the  humiliating  truth  —  that  I  cannot  read  ?" 

As  Harry's  eyes  met  hers  in  undisguised  amazement, 
the  fair  Cuban  seemed  to  shrink  before  his  gaze. 
' '  Read  ?  "  repeated  Harry.     ' '  You  ?  " 

She  pushed  the  window  still  more  widely  open  with 
a  large  and  noble  gesture.  "Enter,  Senor,"  said  she. 
"The  time  has  come  to  which  I  have  long  looked  for- 
ward, not  without  alarm ;  when  1  must  either  fear  to 
lose  your  friendship,  or  tell  you  without  disguise  the 
story  of  my  life." 

It  was  with  a  sentiment  bordering  on  devotion,  that 
Harry  passed  the  window.  A  semi-barbarous  delight  in 
form  and  colour  had  presided  over  the  studied  disorder 
of  the  room  in  which  he  found  himself  It  was  filled 
with  dainty  stuffs,  furs  and  rugs  and  scarves  of  brilliant 
hues,  and  set  with  elegant  and  curious  trifles  —  fans  on 
the  mantel-shelf,  an  antique  lamp  upon  a  bracket,  and 
on  the  table  a  silver-mounted  bowl  of  cocoa-nut  about 
half  full  of  unset  jewels.  The  fair  Cuban,  herself  a  gem 
of  colour  and  the  fit  masterpiece  for  that  rich  frame, 
motioned  Harry  to  a  seat,  and  sinking  herself  into  an- 
other, thus  began  her  history. 

186 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

I  AM  not  what  I  seem.  My  father  drew  his  descent, 
on  the  one  hand,  from  grandees  of  Spain,  and  on  the 
other,  through  the  maternal  line,  from  the  patriot  Bruce. 
My  mother,  too,  was  the  descendant  of  a  line  of  kings ; 
but,  alas !  these  kings  were  African.  She  was  fair  as  the 
day :  fairer  than  I,  for  I  inherited  a  darker  strain  of  blood 
from  the  veins  of  my  European  father;  her  mind  was 
noble,  her  manners  queenly  and  accomplished;  and  see- 
ing her  more  than  the  equal  of  her  neighbours  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  most  considerate  affection  and  respect, 
I  grew  up  to  adore  her,  and  when  the  time  came,  re- 
ceived her  last  sigh  upon  my  lips,  still  ignorant  that  she 
was  a  slave  and,  alas !  my  father's  mistress.  Her  death, 
which  befell  me  in  my  sixteenth  year,  was  the  first  sor- 
row I  had  known :  it  left  our  home  bereaved  of  its  at- 
tractions, cast  a  shade  of  melancholy  on  my  youth,  and 
wrought  in  my  father  a  tragic  and  durable  change. 
Months  went  by ;  with  the  elasticity  of  my  years,  I  re- 
gained some  of  the  simple  mirth  that  had  before  dis- 
tinguished me;  the  plantation  smiled  with  fresh  crops; 
the  negroes  on  the  estate  had  already  forgotten  my 
mother  and  transferred  their  simple  obedience  to  my- 
self; but  still  the  cloud  only  darkened  on  the  brows  ol 
Senor  Valdevia.      His  absences  from  home  had  been 

187 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

frequent  even  in  the  old  days,  for  he  did  business  in 
precious  gems  in  the  city  of  Havana ;  they  now  became 
almost  continuous;  and  when  he  returned,  it  was  but 
for  the  night  and  with  the  manner  of  a  man  crushed 
down  by  adverse  fortune. 

The  place  where  I  was  born  and  passed  my  days  was 
an  isle  set  in  the  Caribbean  Sea,  some  half-hour's  rowing 
from  the  coast  of  Cuba.  It  was  steep,  rugged,  and,  ex- 
cept for  my  father's  family  and  plantation,  uninhabited 
and  left  to  nature.  The  house,  a  low  building  sur- 
rounded by  spacious  verandas,  stood  upon  a  rise  of 
ground  and  looked  across  the  sea  to  Cuba.  The  breezes 
blew  about  it  gratefully,  fanned  us  as  we  lay  swinging 
in  our  silken  hammocks,  and  tossed  the  boughs  and 
flowers  of  the  magnolia.  Behind  and  to  the  left,  the 
quarter  of  the  negroes  and  the  waving  fields  of  the  plant- 
ation covered  an  eighth  part  of  the  surface  of  the  isle. 
On  the  right  and  closely  bordering  on  the  garden  lay  a 
vast  and  deadly  swamp,  densely  covered  with  wood, 
breathing  fever,  dotted  with  profound  sloughs,  and  in- 
habited by  poisonous  oysters,  man-eating  crabs,  snakes, 
alligators  and  sickly  fishes.  In  the  recesses  of  that  jun- 
gle none  could  penetrate  but  those  of  African  descent ; 
an  invisible,  unconquerable  foe  lay  there  in  wait  for  the 
European ;  and  the  air  was  death. 

One  morning  (from  which  I  must  date  the  beginning 
of  my  ruinous  misfortune)  I  left  my  room  a  little  after 
day,  for  in  that  warm  climate  all  are  early  risers,  and 
found  not  a  servant  to  attend  upon  my  wants.  I  made 
the  circuit  of  the  house,  still  calling :  and  my  surprise 
had  almost  changed  into  alarm,  when  coming  at  last 
into  a  large  verandaed  court,  I  found  it  thronged  with 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

negroes.  Even  then,  even  when  I  was  amongst  them, 
not  one  turned  or  paid  the  least  regard  to  my  arrival. 
They  had  eyes  and  ears  for  but  one  person :  a  woman 
richly  and  tastefully  attired ;  of  elegant  carriage,  and  a 
musical  speech ;  not  so  much  old  in  years,  as  worn  and 
marred  by  self-indulgence :  her  face,  which  was  still  at- 
tractive, stamped  with  the  most  cruel  passions,  her  eye 
burning  with  the  greed  of  evil.  It  was  not  from  her 
appearance,  1  believe,  but  from  some  emanation  of  her 
soul,  that  I  recoiled  in  a  kind  of  fainting  terror;  as  we 
hear  of  plants  that  blight  and  snakes  that  fascinate,  the 
woman  shocked  and  daunted  me.  But  I  was  of  a  brave 
nature ;  trod  the  weakness  down ;  and  forcing  my  way 
through  the  slaves,  who  fell  back  before  me  in  embar- 
rassment, as  though  in  the  presence  of  rival  mistresses, 
I  asked,  in  imperious  tones:  "  Who  is  this  person  ?  " 

A  girl  slave,  to  whom  I  had  been  kind,  whispered  in 
my  ear  to  have  a  care,  for  that  was  Madam  Mendizabal ; 
but  the  name  was  new  to  me. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  woman,  applying  a  pair  of 
glasses  to  her  eyes,  studied  me  with  insolent  particular- 
ity from  head  to  foot. 

*' Young  woman,"  said  she,  at  last,  '*l  have  had  a 
great  experience  in  refractory  servants,  and  take  a  pride 
in  breaking  them.  You  really  tempt  me;  and  if  I  had 
not  other  affairs,  and  these  of  more  importance,  on  my 
hand,  I  should  certainly  buy  you  at  your  father's  sale." 

"  Madam "  I  began,  but  my  voice  failed  me. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  do  not  know  your  position  .^" 
she  returned  with  a  hateful  laugh.  '*  How  comical !  Pos- 
itively, I  must  buy  her.  Accomplishments,  I  suppose  ?" 
she  added,  turning  to  the  servants. 

(89 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

Several  assured  her  that  the  young  mistress  had  been 
brought  up  like  any  lady,  for  so  it  seemed  in  their  inex- 
perience. 

"  She  would  do  very  well  for  my  place  of  business  in 
Havana,"  said  the  Senora  Mendizabal,  once  more  study- 
ing me  through  her  glasses;  ''and  I  should  take  a  pleas- 
ure," she  pursued,  more  directly  addressing  myself, 
*'in  bringing  you  acquainted  with  a  whip."  And  she 
smiled  at  me  with  a  savoury  lust  of  cruelty  upon  her  face. 

At  this  I  found  expression.  Calling  by  name  upon 
the  servants,  I  bade  them  turn  this  woman  from  the 
house,  fetch  her  to  the  boat,  and  set  her  back  upon  the 
mainland.  But  with  one  voice,  they  protested  that  they 
durst  not  obey,  coming  close  about  me,  pleading  and 
beseeching  me  to  be  more  wise ;  and  when  I  insisted, 
rising  higher  in  passion  and  speaking  of  this  foul  in- 
truder in  the  terms  she  had  deserved,  they  fell  back  from 
me  as  from  one  who  had  blasphemed.  A  superstitious 
reverence  plainly  encircled  the  stranger;  I  could  read  it 
in  their  changed  demeanour,  and  in  the  paleness  that  pre- 
vailed upon  the  natural  colour  of  their  faces;  and  their 
fear  perhaps  reacted  on  myself.  I  looked  again  at  Mad- 
am Mendizabal.  She  stood  perfectly  composed,  watch- 
ing my  face  through  her  glasses  with  a  smile  of  scorn ; 
and  at  the  sight  of  her  assured  superiority  to  all  my 
threats,  a  cry  broke  from  my  lips,  a  cry  of  rage,  fear 
and  despair,  and  I  fled  from  the  veranda  and  the  house. 

I  ran  I  knew  not  where,  but  it  was  toward  the  beach. 
As  I  went,  my  head  whirled;  so  strange,  so  sudden, 
were  these  events  and  insults.  Who  was  she  ?  what  in 
Heaven's  name  the  power  she  wielded  over  my  obedi- 
ent negroes  ?    Why  had  she  addressed  me  as  a  slave  ? 

190 


STORY   OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

why  spoken  of  my  father's  sale  ?  To  all  these  tumult- 
uary questions  I  could  find  no  answer;  and  in  the  tur- 
moil of  my  mind,  nothing  was  plain  except  the  hateful, 
leering  image  of  the  woman. 

I  was  still  running,  mad  with  fear  and  anger,  when  I 
saw  my  father  coming  to  meet  me  from  the  landing- 
place  ;  and  with  a  cry  that  I  thought  would  have  killed 
me,  leaped  into  his  arms  and  broke  into  a  passion  of 
sobs  and  tears  upon  his  bosom.  He  made  me  sit  down 
below  a  tall  palmetto  that  grew  not  far  off,  comforted 
me,  but  with  some  abstraction  in  his  voice,  and  as  soon 
as  I  regained  the  least  command  upon  my  feelings, 
asked  me,  not  without  harshness,  what  this  grief  be- 
tokened. I  was  surprised  by  his  tone  into  a  still  greater 
measure  of  composure ;  and  in  firm  tones,  though  still 
interrupted  by  sobs,  I  told  him  there  was  a  stranger  in 
the  island,  at  which  I  thought  he  started  and  turned 
pale;  that  the  servants  would  not  obey  me;  that  the 
stranger's  name  was  Madam  Mendizabal,  and  at  that  he 
seemed  to  me  both  troubled  and  relieved ;  that  she  had 
insulted  me,  treated  me  as  a  slave  (and  here  my  father's 
brow  began  to  darken),  threatened  to  buy  me  at  a  sale, 
and  questioned  my  own  servants  before  my  face ;  and 
that,  at  last,  finding  myself  quite  helpless  and  exposed 
to  these  intolerable  liberties,  I  had  fled  from  the  house 
in  terror,  indignation  and  amazement. 

"Teresa,"  said  my  father,  with  singular  gravity  of 
voice,  "  I  must  make  to-day  a  call  upon  your  courage; 
much  must  be  told  you,  there  is  much  that  you  must 
do  to  help  me;  and  my  daughter  must  prove  herself  a 
woman  by  her  spirit.  As  for  this  Mendizabal,  what 
shall  I  say  ?   or  how  am  1  to  tell  you  what  she  is  ? 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

Twenty  years  ago,  she  was  the  loveliest  of  slaves ;  to- 
day she  is  what  you  see  her  —  prematurely  old,  dis- 
graced by  the  practice  of  every  vice  and  every  nefarious 
industry,  but  free,  rich,  married,  they  say,  to  some  rep- 
utable man,  whom  may  Heaven  assist!  and  exercising 
among  her  ancient  mates,  the  slaves  of  Cuba,  an  influ- 
ence as  unbounded  as  its  reason  is  mysterious.  Horri- 
ble rites,  it  is  supposed,  cement  her  empire :  the  rites  of 
Hoodoo.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  would  have  you  dismiss 
the  thought  of  this  incomparable  witch ;  it  is  not  from 
her  that  danger  threatens  us,  and  into  her  hands,  I  make 
bold  to  promise,  you  shall  never  fall. " 

''Father!"  I  cried.  ''Fall.?  Was  there  any  truth, 
then,  in  her  words  ?  Am  I  —  oh,  father,  tell  me  plain ; 
I  can  bear  anything  but  this  suspense." 

"I  will  tell  you,"  he  replied,  "with  merciful  blunt- 
ness.  Your  mother  was  a  slave ;  it  was  my  design,  so 
soon  as  I  had  saved  a  competence,  to  sail  to  the  free 
land  of  Britain,  where  the  law  would  suffer  me  to  marry 
her :  a  design  too  long  procrastinated ;  for  death  at  the 
last  moment  intervened.  You  will  now  understand  the 
heaviness  with  which  your  mother's  memory  hangs 
about  my  neck." 

I  cried  out  aloud,  in  pity  for  my  parents ;  and  in  seek- 
ing to  console  the  survivor,  I  forgot  myself. 

"  It  matters  not,"  resumed  my  father.  "  What  I  have 
left  undone  can  never  be  repaired,  and  I  must  bear  the 
penalty  of  my  remorse.  But,  Teresa,  with  so  cutting  a 
reminder  of  the  evils  of  delay,  I  set  myself  at  once  to  do 
what  was  still  possible :  to  liberate  yourself  " 

I  began  to  break  forth  in  thanks,  but  he  checked  me 
with  a  somber  roughness. 

192 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

"Your  mother's  illness,"  he  resumed,  ''had  engaged 
too  great  a  portion  of  my  time ;  my  business  in  the  city 
had  lain  too  long  at  the  mercy  of  ignorant  underlings ; 
my  head,  my  taste,  my  unequalled  knowledge  of  the 
more  precious  stones,  that  art  by  which  I  can  distin- 
guish, even  on  the  darkest  night,  a  sapphire  from  a  ruby, 
and  tell  at  a  glance  in  what  quarter  of  the  earth  a  gem 
was  disinterred  —  all  these  had  been  too  long  absent 
from  the  conduct  of  affairs.    Teresa,  I  was  insolvent." 

''What  matters  that.?"  I  cried.  "What  matters 
poverty,  if  we  be  left  together  with  our  love  and  sacred 
memories  ?  " 

'  *  You  do  not  comprehend, "  he  said  gloomily.  ' '  Slave, 
as  you  are,  young  —  alas!  scarce  more  than  child!  — 
accomplished,  beautiful  with  the  most  touching  beauty, 
innocent  as  an  angel  —  all  these  qualities  that  should 
disarm  the  very  wolves  and  crocodiles,  are,  in  the  eyes 
of  those  to  whom  I  stand  indebted,  commodities  to  buy 
and  sell.  You  are  a  chattel;  a  marketable  thing;  and 
worth  —  heavens,  that  I  should  say  such  words !  — 
worth  money.  Do  you  begin  to  see  ?  If  I  were  to  give 
you  freedom,  I  should  defraud  my  creditors;  the  manu- 
mission would  be  certainly  annulled ;  you  would  be  still 
a  slave,  and  I  a  criminal." 

I  caught  his  hand  in  mine,  kissed  it,  and  moaned  in 
pity  for  myself,  in  sympathy  for  my  father. 

"How  I  have  toiled,"  he  continued,  "how  I  have 
dared  and  striven  to  repair  my  losses,  Heaven  has  be- 
held and  will  remember.  Its  blessing  was  denied  to 
my  endeavours,  or,  as  I  please  myself  by  thinking,  but 
delayed  to  descend  upon  my  daughter's  head.  At 
length,  all  hope  was  at  an  end;  I  was  ruined  beyond 

»93 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

retrieve ;  a  heavy  debt  fell  due  upon  the  morrow,  which 
I  could  not  meet;  I  should  be  declared  a  bankrupt,  and 
my  goods,  my  lands,  my  jewels  that  I  so  much  loved, 
my  slaves  whom  I  have  spoiled  and  rendered  happy, 
and  oh!  ten-fold  worse,  you,  my  beloved  daughter, 
would  be  sold  and  pass  into  the  hands  of  ignorant  and 
greedy  traffickers.  Too  long,  I  saw,  had  I  accepted  and 
profited  by  this  great  crime  of  slavery;  but  was  my 
daughter,  my  innocent,  unsullied  daughter,  was  she  to 
pay  the  price  ?  I  cried  out  —  no  !  —  I  took  Heaven  to 
witness  my  temptation ;  I  caught  up  this  bag  and  fled. 
Close  upon  my  track  are  the  pursuers;  perhaps  tov 
morrow,  they  will  land  upon  this  isle,  sacred  to  the 
memory  of  the  dear  soul  that  bore  you,  to  consign  your 
father  to  an  ignominious  prison,  and  yourself  to  slavery 
and  dishonour.  We  have  not  many  hours  before  us. 
Off  the  north  coast  of  our  isle,  by  strange  good  fortune, 
an  English  yacht  has  for  some  days  been  hovering.  It 
belongs  to  Sir  George  Greville,  whom  1  slightly  know, 
to  whom  ere  now  I  have  rendered  unusual  services, 
and  who  will  not  refuse  to  help  in  our  escape.  Or  if  he 
did,  if  his  gratitude  were  in  default,  I  have  the  power 
to  force  him.  For  what  does  it  mean,  my  child  — 
what  means  this  Englishman,  who  hangs  for  years  upon 
the  shores  of  Cuba,  and  returns  from  every  trip  with 
new  and  valuable  gems  ! " 

'*  He  may  have  found  a  mine,"  I  hazarded. 

''So  he  declares,"  returned  my  father;  ''but  the 
strange  gift  I  have  received  from  nature,  easily  trans- 
pierced the  fable.  He  brought  me  diamonds  only, 
which  I  bought,  at  first,  in  innocence;  at  a  second 
glance,  I  started;  for  of  these  stones,  my  child,  some 

194 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

had  first  seen  the  day  in  Africa,  some  in  Brazil;  while 
others,  from  their  peculiar  water  and  rude  workman- 
ship, I  divined  to  be  the  spoil  of  ancient  temples.  Thus 
put  upon  the  scent,  I  made  inquiries :  oh,  he  is  cunning, 
but  I  was  cunninger  than  he.  He  visited,  I  found,  the 
shop  of  every  jeweler  in  town ;  to  one  he  came  with 
rubies,  to  one  with  emeralds,  to  one  with  precious 
beryl ;  to  all,  with  this  same  story  of  the  mine.  But  in 
what  mine,  what  rich  epitome  of  the  earth's  surface, 
were  there  conjoined  the  rubies  of  Ispahan,  the  pearls 
of  Coromandel  and  the  diamonds  of  Golconda  ?  No, 
child,  that  man,  for  all  his  yacht  and  title,  that  man 
must  fear  and  must  obey  me.  To-night,  then,  as  soon 
as  it  is  dark,  we  must  take  our  way  through  the  swamp 
by  the  path  which  I  shall  presently  show  you ;  thence, 
across  the  highlands  of  the  isle  a  track  is  blazed,  which 
shall  conduct  us  to  the  haven  on  the  north;  and  close 
by  the  yacht  is  riding.  Should  my  pursuers  come  be- 
fore the  hour  at  which  I  look  to  see  them,  they  will 
still  arrive  too  late ;  a  trusty  man  attends  on  the  main- 
land ;  as  soon  as  they  appear,  we  shall  behold,  if  it  be 
dark,  the  redness  of  a  fire,  if  it  be  day,  a  pillar  of  smoke, 
on  the  opposing  headland ;  and  thus  warned,  we  shall 
have  time  to  put  the  swamp  between  ourselves  and 
danger.  Meantime,  1  would  conceal  this  bag;  I  would, 
before  all  things,  be  seen  to  arrive  at  the  house  with 
empty  hands ;  a  blabbing  slave  might  else  undo  us.  For 
see! "  he  added;  and  holding  up  the  bag,  which  he  had 
already  shown  me,  he  poured  into  my  lap  a  shower  of 
unmounted  jewels,  brighter  than  flowers,  of  every  size 
and  colour,  and  catching,  as  they  fell,  upon  a  million 
dainty  facets,  the  ardour  of  the  sun. 

195 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

I  could  not  restrain  a  cry  of  admiration. 

**Even  in  your  ignorant  eyes,"  pursued  my  father, 
''they  command  respect.  Yet  what  are  they  but  peb- 
bles, passive  to  the  tool,  cold  as  death?  Ingrate!"  he 
cried.  "  Each  one  of  these  —  miracles  of  nature's  pa- 
tience, conceived  out  of  the  dust  in  centuries  of  micro- 
scopical activity,  each  one  is,  for  you  and  me,  a  year  of 
life,  liberty  and  mutual  affection.  How,  then,  should  I 
cherish  them  ?  and  why  do  1  delay  to  place  them  be- 
yond reach  ?    Teresa,  follow  me." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  and  led  me  to  the  borders  of  the 
great  jungle,  where  they  overhung,  in  a  wall  of  poison- 
ous and  dusky  foliage,  the  declivity  of  the  hill  on  which 
my  father's  house  stood  planted.  For  some  while  he 
skirted,  with  attentive  eyes,  the  margin  of  the  thicket. 
Then,  seeming  to  recognise  some  mark,  for  his  counte- 
nance became  immediately  lightened  of  thought,  he 
paused  and  addressed  me. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  the  entrance  of  the  secret  path 
that  I  have  mentioned,  and  here  you  shall  await  me.  I 
but  pass  some  hundreds  of  yards  into  the  swamp  to  bury 
my  poor  treasure;  as  soon  as  that  is  safe,  I  will  return." 

It  was  in  vain  that  I  sought  to  dissuade  him,  urging 
the  dangers  of  the  place;  in  vain  that  I  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  follow,  pleading  the  black  blood  that  I  now 
knew  to  circulate  in  my  veins.  To  all  my  appeals  he 
turned  a  deaf  ear,  and,  bending  back  a  portion  of  the 
screen  of  bushes,  disappeared  into  the  pestilential  si- 
lence of  the  swamp. 

At  the  end  of  a  full  hour  the  bushes  were  once  more 
thrust  aside,  and  my  father  stepped  from  out  the  thicket 
and  paused  and  almost  staggered  in  the  first  shock  of 

196 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

the  blinding  sunlight.  His  face  was  of  a  singular  dusky 
red ;  and  yet  for  all  the  heat  of  the  tropical  noon,  he  did 
not  seem  to  sweat. 

"You  are  tired,"  I  cried,   springing  to  meet  him. 
*'You  are  ill." 

'*!  am  tired,"  he  replied;  "the  air  in  that  jungle 
stifles  one ;  my  eyes,  besides,  have  grown  accustomed 
to  its  gloom,  and  the  strong  sunshine  pierces  them  like 
knives.  A  moment,  Teresa,  give  me  but  a  moment. 
All  shall  yet  be  well.  I  have  buried  the  hoard  under  a 
cypress,  immediately  beyond  the  bayou,  on  the  left  hand 
margin  of  the  path ;  beautiful,  bright  things,  they  now 
lie  whelmed  in  slime;  you  shall  find  them  there,  if  need- 
ful. But  come,  let  us  to  the  house;  it  is  time  to  eat 
against  our  journey  of  the  night;  to  eat  and  then  to 
sleep,  my  poor  Teresa;  then  to  sleep."  And  he  looked 
upon  me  out  of  bloodshot  eyes,  shaking  his  head  as  if 
in  pity. 

We  went  hurriedly,  for  he  kept  murmuring  that  he 
had  been  gone  too  long  and  that  the  servants  might 
suspect;  passed  through  the  airy  stretch  of  the  veranda, 
and  came  at  length  into  the  grateful  twilight  of  the 
shuttered  house.  The  meal  was  spread;  the  house 
servants,  already  informed  by  the  boatmen  of  the  mas- 
ter's return,  were  all  back  at  their  posts,  and  terrified, 
as  I  could  see,  to  face  me.  My  father  still  murmuring 
of  haste  with  weary  and  feverish  pertinacity,  I  hurried 
at  once  to  take  my  place  at  table ;  but  I  had  no  sooner 
left  his  arm  than  he  paused  and  thrust  forth  both  his 
hands  with  a  strange  gesture  of  groping.  "How  is 
this?"  he  cried,  in  a  sharp,  inhuman  voice.  "Am  I 
blind  ?  "     1  ran  to  him  and  tried  to  lead  him  to  the  table ; 

'97 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

but  he  resisted  and  stood  stiffly  where  he  was,  opening 
and  shutting  his  jaws,  as  if  in  a  painful  effort  after 
breath.  Then  suddenly  he  raised  both  hands  to  his 
temples,  cried  out,  ''My  head,  my  head  !"  and  reeled 
and  fell  against  the  wall. 

I  knew  too  well  what  it  must  be.  I  turned  and 
begged  the  servants  to  relieve  him.  But  they,  with  one 
accord,  denied  the  possibility  of  hope ;  the  master  had 
gone  into  the  swamp,  they  said,  the  master  must  die; 
all  help  was  idle.  Why  should  I  dwell  upon  his  suffer- 
ings ?  I  had  him  carried  to  a  bed,  and  watched  beside 
him.  He  lay  still,  and  at  times  ground  his  teeth,  and 
talked  at  times  unintelligibly,  only  that  one  word  of 
hurry,  hurry,  coming  distinctly  to  my  ears,  and  telling 
me  that,  even  in  the  last  struggle  with  the  powers  of 
death,  his  mind  was  still  tortured  by  his  daughter's 
peril.  The  sun  had  gone  down,  the  darkness  had  fallen, 
when  I  perceived  that  I  was  alone  on  this  unhappy 
earth.  What  thought  had  I  of  flight,  of  safety,  of  the 
impending  dangers  of  my  situation  ?  Beside  the  body 
of  my  last  friend,  I  had  forgotten  all  except  the  natural 
pangs  of  my  bereavement. 

The  sun  was  some  four  hours  above  the  eastern  line, 
when  I  was  called  to  a  knowledge  of  the  things  of  earth, 
by  the  entrance  of  the  slave-girl  to  whom  I  have  already 
referred.  The  poor  soul  was  indeed  devotedly  attached 
to  me ;  and  it  was  with  streaming  tears  that  she  broke 
to  me  the  import  of  her  coming.  With  the  first  light 
of  dawn  a  boat  had  reached  our  landing-place,  and  set  on 
shore  upon  our  isle  (till  now  so  fortunate)  a  party  of 
officers  bearing  a  warrant  to  arrest  my  father's  person, 
and  a  man  of  a  gross  body  and  low  manners,  who  de- 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

clared  the  island,  the  plantation  and  all  its  human  chat- 
tels, to  be  now  his  own.  "  I  think,"  said  my  slave-girl, 
**he  must  be  a  politician  or  some  very  powerful  sor- 
cerer; for  Madam  Mendizabal  had  no  sooner  seen  them 
coming,  than  she  took  to  the  woods." 

"Fool,"  said  I,  "it  was  the  officers  she  feared;  and  at 
any  rate  why  does  that  beldam  still  dare  to  pollute  the 
island  with  her  presence  ?  And  oh,  Cora,"  I  exclaimed, 
remembering  my  grief,  "  what  matter  all  these  troubles 
to  an  orphan  ?" 

"Mistress,"  said  she,  "I  must  remind  you  of  two 
things.  Never  speak  as  you  do  now  of  Madam  Men- 
dizabal ;  or  never  to  a  person  of  colour ;  for  she  is  the 
most  powerful  woman  in  this  world,  and  her  real  name 
even,  if  one  durst  pronounce  it,  were  a  spell  to  raise 
the  dead.  And  whatever  you  do,  speak  no  more  of  her 
to  your  unhappy  Cora;  for  though  it  is  possible  she 
may  be  afraid  of  the  police  (and  indeed  1  think  that  1 
have  heard  that  she  is  in  hiding)  and  though  1  know 
that  you  will  laugh  and  not  believe,  yet  it  is  true,  and 
proved,  and  known  that  she  hears  every  word  that  peo- 
ple utter  in  this  whole,  vast  world ;  and  your  poor  Cora 
is  already  deep  enough  in  her  black  books.  She  looks 
at  me,  mistress,  till  my  blood  turns  ice.  That  is  the 
first  I  had  to  say;  and  now  for  the  second:  do,  pray, 
for  Heaven's  sake,  bear  in  mind  that  you  are  no  longer 
the  poor  Sefior's  daughter.  He  is  gone,  dear  gentle- 
man ;  and  now  you  are  no  more  than  a  common  slave- 
girl  like  myself.  The  man  to  whom  you  belong  calls 
for  you ;  oh,  my  dear  mistress,  go  at  once  !  With  your 
youth  and  beauty,  you  may  still,  if  you  are  winning  and 
obedient,  secure  yourself  an  easy  life." 

199 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

For  a  moment  I  looked  on  the  creature  with  the  in- 
dignation you  may  conceive ;  the  next  it  was  gone :  she 
did  but  speak  after  her  kind,  as  the  bird  sings  or  cattle 
bellow.  ''Go,"  said  I.  ''Go,  Cora.  I  thank  you  for 
your  kind  intentions.  Leave  me  alone  one  moment 
with  my  dead  father ;  and  tell  this  man  that  I  will  come 
at  once." 

She  went ;  and  I,  turning  to  the  bed  of  death,  addressed 
to  those  deaf  ears  the  last  appeal  and  defence  of  my  be- 
leaguered innocence.  "Father,"  I  said,  "it  was  your 
last  thought,  even  in  the  pangs  of  dissolution,  that  your 
daughter  should  escape  disgrace.  Here,  at  your  side,  I 
swear  to  you  that  purpose  shall  be  carried  out ;  by  what 
means,  I  know  not;  by  crime,  if  need  be;  and  heaven 
forgive  both  you  and  me  and  our  oppressors,  and  heaven 
help  my  helplessness!  "  Thereupon  I  felt  strengthened 
as  by  long  repose ;  stepped  to  the  mirror,  ay,  even  in 
that  chamber  of  the  dead;  hastily  arranged  my  hair, 
refreshed  my  tear- worn  eyes,  breathed  a  dumb  farewell 
to  the  originator  of  my  days  and  sorrows ;  and  com- 
posing my  features  to  a  smile,  went  forth  to  meet  my 
master. 

He  was  in  a  great,  hot  bustle,  reviewing  that  house, 
once  ours,  to  which  he  had  but  now  succeeded;  a 
corpulent,  sanguine  man  of  middle  age,  sensual, 
vulgar,  humorous,  and,  if  I  judged  rightly,  not  ill-dis- 
posed by  nature.  But  the  sparkle  that  came  into  his 
eye  as  he  observed  me  enter,  warned  me  to  expect  the 
worst. 

"Is  this  your  late  mistress?"  he  inquired  of  the 
slaves;  and  when  he  had  learned  it  was  so,  instantly 
dismissed  them.     "Now,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "lama 

200 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

plain  man :  none  of  your  damned  Spaniards,  but  a  true 
blue,  hard-working,  honest  Englishman.  My  name  is 
Caulder." 

*'  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  1,  and  courtesied  very  smartly 
as  1  had  seen  the  servants. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  "this  is  better  than  I  had  expected; 
and  if  you  choose  to  be  dutiful  in  the  station  to  which 
it  has  pleased  God  to  call  you,  you  will  find  me  a  very 
kind  old  fellow.  I  like  your  looks,"  he  added,  calling 
me  by  my  name,  which  he  scandalously  mispronounced. 
*'  Is  your  hair  all  your  own  ?"  he  then  inquired  with  a 
certain  sharpness,  and  coming  up  to  me,  as  though  I 
were  a  horse,  he  grossly  satisfied  his  doubts.  I  was  all 
one  flame  from  head  to  foot,  but  I  contained  my  right- 
eous anger  and  submitted.  "That  is  very  well,"  he 
continued,  chucking  me  good-humouredly  under  the 
chin.  "You  will  have  no  cause  to  regret  coming  to 
old  Caulder,  eh  ?  But  that  is  by  the  way.  What  is 
more  to  the  point  is  this :  your  late  master  was  a  most 
dishonest  rogue  and  levanted  with  some  valuable  prop- 
erty that  belonged  of  rights  to  me.  Now,  considering 
your  relation  to  him,  I  regard  you  as  the  likeliest  person 
to  know  what  has  become  of  it ;  and  I  warn  you,  before 
you  answer,  that  my  whole  future  kindness  will  depend 
upon  your  honesty.  I  am  an  honest  man  myself,  and 
expect  the  same  in  my  servants.*' 

"  Do  you  mean  the  jewels  ?"  said  I,  sinking  my  voice 
into  a  whisper. 

"That  is  just  precisely  what  1  do,"  said  he,  and 
chuckled. 

"Hush!"  said  I. 

"  Hush  ?  "  he  repeated,     "  And  why  hush  ?    I  am  on 

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MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

my  own  place,  I  would  have  you  to  know,  and  sur- 
rounded by  my  own  lawful  servants." 

'*Are  the  officers  gone?"  I  asked;  and  oh,  how  my 
hopes  hung  upon  the  answer  I 

"  They  are,"  said  he,  looking  somewhat  disconcerted. 
"Why  do  you  ask.^" 

"1  wish  you  had  kept  them,"  I  answered,  solemnly 
enough,  although  my  heart  at  that  same  moment  leaped 
with  exultation.  ''Master,  I  must  not  conceal  from  you 
the  truth.  The  servants  on  this  estate  are  in  a  dangerous 
condition,  and  mutiny  has  long  been  brewing." 

"  Why,"  he  cried,  "I  never  saw  a  milder-looking  lot 
of  niggers  in  my  life."  But  for  all  that  he  turned  some- 
what pale. 

'*  Did  they  tell  you,"  I  continued,  ''that  Madam  Men- 
dizabal  is  on  the  island  ?  that,  since  her  coming,  they  obey 
none  but  her  ?  that  if,  this  morning,  they  have  received 
you  with  even  decent  civility,  it  was  only  by  her  orders — 
issued  with  what  after-thought  1  leave  you  to  consider.^" 

"  Madam  Jezebel  ?  "  said  he.  "  Well,  she  is  a  danger- 
ous devil ;  the  police  are  after  her,  besides,  for  a  whole 
series  of  murders ;  but  after  all,  what  then  ?  To  be  sure, 
she  has  a  great  influence  with  you  coloured  folk.  But 
what  in  fortune's  name  can  be  her  errand  here  ?" 

"The  jewels,"  I  replied.  "Ah,  sir,  had  you  seen  that 
treasure,  sapphire  and  emerald  and  opal,  and  the  golden 
topaz,  and  rubies,  red  as  the  sunset  —  of  what  incalcu- 
lable worth,  of  what  unequalled  beauty  to  the  eye!  — 
had  you  seen  it,  as  I  have,  and  alas!  as  she  has  —  you 
would  understand  and  tremble  at  your  danger." 

"She  has  seen  them! "  he  cried,  and  I  could  see  by 
his  face,  that  my  audacity  was  justified  by  its  success. 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

I  caught  his  hand  in  mine.  "  My  master, "  said  I, 
**I  am  now  yours;  it  is  my  duty,  it  should  be  my 
pleasure,  to  defend  your  interests  and  life.  Hear  my 
advice  then;  and,  I  conjure  you,  be  guided  by  pru- 
dence. Follow  me  privily ;  let  none  see  where  we  are 
going;  I  will  lead  you  to  the  place  where  the  treasure 
has  been  buried;  that  once  disinterred,  let  us  make 
straight  for  the  boat,  escape  to  the  mainland,  and  not 
return  to  this  dangerous  isle  without  the  countenance 
of  soldiers." 

What  free  man  in  a  free  land,  would  have  credited  so 
sudden  a  devotion  ?  But  this  oppressor,  through  the 
very  arts  and  sophistries  he  had  abused,  to  quiet  the  re- 
bellion of  his  conscience  and  to  convince  himself  that 
slavery  was  natural,  fell  like  a  child  into  the  trap  I  laid 
for  him.  He  praised  and  thanked  me ;  told  me  I  had 
all  the  qualities  he  valued  in  a  servant;  and  when  he 
had  questioned  me  further  as  to  the  nature  and  value  of 
the  treasure,  and  I  had  once  more  artfully  inflamed  his 
greed,  bade  me  without  delay  proceed  to  carry  out  my 
plan  of  action. 

From  a  shed  in  the  garden,  I  took  a  pick  and  a  shovel ; 
and  thence,  by  devious  paths  among  the  magnolias,  led 
my  master  to  the  entrance  of  the  swamp.  I  walked 
first,  carrying,  as  I  was  now  in  duty  bound,  the  tools,  and 
glancing  continually  behind  me,  lest  we  should  be  spied 
upon  and  followed.  When  we  were  come  as  far  as 
the  beginning  of  the  path,  it  flashed  into  my  mind  I 
had  forgotten  meat;  and  leaving  Mr.  Caulder  in  the 
shadow  of  a  tree,  1  returned  alone  to  the  house  for  a 
basket  of  provisions.  Were  they  for  him  ?  I  asked  my- 
self.    And  a  voice  within  me  answered,  No.     While 

203 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

we  were  face  to  face,  while  I  still  saw  before  my  eyes 
the  man  to  whom  I  belonged  as  the  hand  belongs  to 
the  body,  my  indignation  held  me  bravely  up.  But  now 
that  I  was  alone,  I  conceived  a  sickness  at  myself  and 
my  designs  that  1  could  scarce  endure;  I  longed  to 
throw  myself  at  his  feet,  avow  my  intended  treachery, 
and  warn  him  from  that  pestilential  swamp,  to  which  I 
was  decoying  him  to  die ;  but  my  vow  to  my  dead 
father,  my  duty  to  my  innocent  youth,  prevailed  against 
these  scruples ;  and  though  my  face  was  pale  and  must 
have  reflected  the  horror  that  oppressed  my  spirits,  it 
was  with  a  firm  step  that  I  returned  to  the  borders  of 
the  swamp,  and  with  smiling  lips  bade  him  rise  and 
follow  me. 

The  path  on  which  we  now  entered  was  cut  like  a 
tunnel,  through  the  living  jungle.  On  either  hand  and 
overhead,  the  mass  of  foliage  was  continuously  joined ; 
the  day  sparingly  filtered  through  the  depth  of  super- 
impending  wood ;  and  the  air  was  hot  like  steam,  and 
heavy  with  vegetable  odours,  and  lay  like  a  load  upon 
the  lungs  and  brain.  Under  foot,  a  great  depth  of  mould 
received  our  silent  footprints ;  on  each  side  mimosas,  as 
tall  as  a  man,  shrank  from  my  passing  skirts  with  a 
continuous  hissing  rustle;  and  but  for  these  sentient 
vegetables,  all  in  that  den  of  pestilence  was  motionless 
and  noiseless. 

We  had  gone  but  a  little  way  in,  when  Mr.  Caulder  was 
seized  with  sudden  nausea,  and  must  sit  down  a  mo- 
ment on  the  path.  My  heart  yearned,  as  I  beheld  him ; 
and  I  seriously  begged  the  doomed  mortal  to  return  upon 
his  steps.  What  were  a  few  jewels  in  the  scales  with 
life?   I  asked.     But  no,  he  said;  that  witch   Madam 

204 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

Jezebel  would  find  them  out ;  he  was  an  honest  man, 
and  would  not  stand  to  be  defrauded,  and  so  forth, 
panting,  the  while,  like  a  sick  dog.  Presently  he  got 
to  his  feet  again,  protesting  he  had  conquered  his  un- 
easiness ;  but  as  we  again  began  to  go  forward,  I  saw 
in  his  changed  countenance  the  first  approach  of  death. 

*'  Master,"  said  I,  "you  look  pale,  deathly  pale;  your 
pallor  fills  me  with  dread.  Your  eyes  are  bloodshot; 
they  are  red  like  the  rubies  that  we  seek." 

*'  Wench,"  he  cried,  '*  look  before  you;  look  at  your 
steps.  I  declare  to  Heaven,  if  you  annoy  me  once  again 
by  looking  back,  I  shall  remind  you  of  the  change  in  your 
position." 

A  little  after,  I  observed  a  worm  upon  the  ground,  and 
told,  in  a  whisper,  that  its  touch  was  death.  Presently 
a  great  green  serpent,  vivid  as  the  grass  in  spring,  wound 
rapidly  across  the  path;  and  once  again  1  paused  and 
looked  back  at  my  companion  with  a  horror  in  my  eyes. 
''The  coffin  snake,"  said  I,  ''the  snake  that  dogs  its 
victim  like  a  hound." 

But  he  was  not  to  be  dissuaded.  "  I  am  an  old  trav- 
eller," said  he.  "This  is  a  foul  jungle  indeed;  but  we 
shall  soon  be  at  an  end." 

"Ay,"  said  I,  looking  at  him  with  a  strange  smile, 
"what  end?" 

Thereupon  he  laughed  again  and  again,  but  not  very 
heartily;  and  then,  perceiving  that  the  path  began  to 
widen  and  grow  higher,  "There!"  said  he.  "What 
did  1  tell  you  ?    We  are  past  the  worst." 

Indeed,  we  had  now  come  to  the  bayou,  which  was 
in  that  place  very  narrow  and  bridged  across  by  a  fallen 
trunk;  but  on  either  hand  we  could  see  it  broaden  out, 

205 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

under  a  cavern  of  great  arms  of  trees  and  hanging  creep- 
ers; sluggish,  putrid,  of  a  horrible  and  sickly  stench, 
floated  on  by  the  flat  heads  of  alligators,  and  its  banks 
alive  with  scarlet  crabs. 

*Mf  we  fall  from  that  unsteady  bridge,"  said  I,  '*see, 
where  the  cayman  lies  ready  to  devour  us !  If,  by  the 
least  divergence  from  the  path,  we  should  be  snared  in 
a  morass,  see,  where  those  myriads  of  scarlet  vermin 
scour  the  border  of  the  thicket!  Once  helpless,  how 
they  would  swarm  together  to  the  assault !  What  could 
a  man  do  against  a  thousand  of  such  mailed  assailants  ? 
And  what  a  death  were  that,  to  perish  alive  under  their 
claws!" 

* '  Are  you  mad,  girl  ?  "  he  cried.  *  *  1  bid  you  be  silent 
and  lead  on." 

Again  I  looked  upon  him,  half  relenting;  and  at  that 
he  raised  the  stick  that  was  in  his  hand  and  cruelly 
struck  me  on  the  face.  "Lead  on!"  he  cried  again. 
''Must  I  be  all  day,  catching  my  death  in  this  vile  slough, 
and  all  for  a  prating  slave-girl  ?  " 

I  took  the  blow  in  silence,  I  took  it  smiling;  but  the 
blood  welled  back  upon  my  heart.  Something,  I  know 
not  what,  fell  at  that  moment  with  a  dull  plunge  in  the 
waters  of  the  lagoon,  and  I  told  myself  that  it  was  my 
pity  that  had  fallen. 

On  the  further  side,  to  which  we  now  hastily  scram- 
bled, the  wood  was  not  so  dense,  the  web  of  creepers 
not  so  solidly  convolved.  It  was  possible,  here  and 
there,  to  mark  a  patch  of  somewhat  brighter  daylight, 
or  to  distinguish,  through  the  lighter  web  of  parasites, 
the  proportions  of  some  soaring  tree.  The  cypress  on 
the  left  stood  very  visibly  forth  upon  the  edge  of  such 

206 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

a  clearing;  the  path  in  that  place  widened  broadly;  and 
there  was  a  patch  of  open  ground,  beset  with  horrible 
ant-heaps,  thick  with  their  artificers.  I  laid  down  the 
tools  and  basket  by  the  cypress  root,  where  they  were 
instantly  blackened  over  with  the  crawling  ants;  and 
looked  once  more  in  the  face  of  my  unconscious  victim. 
Mosquitoes  and  foul  flies  wove  so  close  a  veil  between 
us  that  his  features  were  obscured ;  and  the  sound  of 
their  flight  was  like  the  turning  of  a  mighty  wheel. 

**  Here,"  I  said,  "  is  the  spot.  I  cannot  dig,  for  I  have 
not  learned  to  use  such  instruments ;  but,  for  your  own 
sake,  I  beseech  you  to  be  swift  in  what  you  do." 

He  had  sunk  once  more  upon  the  ground,  panting 
like  a  fish ;  and  1  saw  rising  in  his  face  the  same  dusky 
flush  that  had  mantled  on  my  father's.  "1  feel  ill,"  he 
gasped,  "  horribly  ill;  the  swamp  turns  around  me;  the 
drone  of  these  carrion  flies  confounds  me.  Have  you 
not  wine.^" 

I  gave  him  a  glass,  and  he  drank  greedily.  "It  is 
for  you  to  think,"  said  1,  "if  you  should  further  perse- 
vere. The  swamp  has  an  ill  name."  And  at  the  word 
I  ominously  nodded. 

' '  Give  me  the  pick, "  said  he.  * '  Where  are  the  jewels 
buried  ?" 

I  told  him  vaguely ;  and  in  the  sweltering  heat  and 
closeness,  and  dim  twilight  of  the  jungle,  he  began  to 
wield  the  pickax,  swinging  it  overhead  with  the  vigour 
of  a  healthy  man.  At  first,  there  broke  forth  upon  him 
a  strong  sweat,  that  made  his  face  to  shine,  and  in 
which  the  greedy  insects  settled  thickly. 

"To  sweat  in  such  a  place,"  said  I.  "Oh,  master, 
is  this  wise  ?    Fever  is  drunk  in  through  open  pores." 

207 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

*'What  do  you  mean?"  he  screamed,  pausing  with 
the  pick  buried  in  the  soil.  '*  Do  you  seek  to  drive  me 
mad  ?  Do  you  think  I  do  not  understand  the  danger 
that  I  run?" 

**That  is  all  I  want,"  said  I;  **  I  only  wish  you  to  be 
swift."  And  then,  my  mind  flitting  to  my  father's 
death-bed,  I  began  to  murmur,  scarce  above  my  breath, 
the  same  vain  repetition  of  words,  Hurry,  hurry,  hurry. 

Presently,  to  my  surprise,  the  treasure-seeker  took 
them  up ;  and  while  he  still  wielded  the  pick,  but  now 
with  staggering  and  uncertain  blows,  repeated  to  him- 
self, as  it  were  the  burden  of  a  song,  "Hurry,  hurry, 
hurry;  "  and  then  again,  ''There  is  no  time  to  lose;  the 
marsh  has  an  ill  name,  ill  name;"  and  then  back  to 
''Hurry,  hurry,  hurry,"  with  a  dreadful,  mechanical, 
hurried  and  yet  wearied  utterance,  as  a  sick  man  rolls 
upon  his  pillow.  The  sweat  had  disappeared ;  he  was 
now  dry,  but  all  that  I  could  see  of  him,  of  the  same 
dull  brick  red.  Presently  his  pick  unearthed  the  bag 
of  jewels;  but  he  did  not  observe  it,  and  continued 
hewing  the  soil. 

"Master,"  said  I,  "there  is  the  treasure." 

He  seemed  to  waken  from  a  dream.  "  Where  ?"  he 
cried;  and  then,  seeing  it  before  his  eyes,  "  Can  this  be 
possible  ?  "  he  added.  ' '  I  must  be  light-headed.  Girl, " 
he  cried  suddenly,  with  the  same  screaming  tone  of 
voice  that  I  had  once  before  observed,  "  what  is  wrong  ? 
is  this  swamp  accursed  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  grave,"  I  answered.  "You  will  not  go  out 
alive;  and  as  for  me,  my  life  is  in  God's  hands." 

He  fell  upon  the  ground  like  a  man  struck  by  a  blow, 
but  whether  from  the  effect  of  my  words,  or  from  sud- 

208 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

den  sieizure  of  the  malady,  I  cannot  tell.  Pretty  soon, 
he  raised  his  head.  "You  have  brought  me  here  to 
die,"  he  said;  **at  the  risk  of  your  own  days,  you  have 
condemned  me.     Why  ?  " 

' '  To  save  my  honour, "  I  replied.  * '  Bear  me  out  that 
I  have  warned  you.  Greed  of  these  pebbles,  and  not  I, 
has  been  your  undoer." 

He  took  out  his  revolver  and  handed  it  to  me.  ''You 
see,"  he  said,  ''I  could  have  killed  you  even  yet.  But 
I  am  dying,  as  you  say ;  nothing  could  save  me ;  and 
my  bill  is  long  enough  already.  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  he 
said,  looking  in  my  face  with  a  curious,  puzzled  and 
pathetic  look,  like  a  dull  child  at  school,  ' '  if  there  be  a 
judgment  afterwards,  my  bill  is  long  enough." 

At  that,  I  broke  into  a  passion  of  weeping,  crawled 
at  his  feet,  kissed  his  hands,  begged  his  forgiveness,  put 
the  pistol  back  into  his  grasp  and  besought  him  to 
avenge  his  death ;  for  indeed,  if  with  my  life  I  could 
have  brought  back  his,  I  had  not  balanced  at  the  cost. 
But  he  was  determined,  the  poor  soul,  that  I  should  yet 
more  bitterly  regret  my  act. 

' '  I  have  nothing  to  forgive, "  said  he.  ' '  Dear  heaven, 
what  a  thing  is  an  old  fool !  I  thought,  upon  my  word, 
you  had  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  me." 

He  was  seized,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  dreadful, 
swimming  dizziness,  clung  to  me  like  a  child,  and 
called  upon  the  name  of  some  woman.  Presently  this 
spasm,  which  I  watched  with  choking  tears,  lessened 
and  died  away;  and  he  came  again  to  the  full  posses- 
sion of  his  mind.  ''I  must  write  my  will,"  he  said. 
*'Get  out  my  pocket-book."  I  did  so,  and  he  wrote 
hurriedly  on  one  page  with  a  pencil.     "Do  not  let  my 

209 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

son  know,"  he  said,  "he  is  a  cruel  dog,  is  my  son 
Philip;  do  not  let  him  know  how  you  have  paid  me 
out;"  and  then  all  of  a  sudden,  **God,"  he  cried,  "1 
am  blind,"  and  clapped  both  hands  before  his  eyes; 
and  then  again,  and  in  a  groaning  whisper,  "Don't 
leave  me  to  the  crabs ! "  I  swore  I  would  be  true  to 
him  so  long  as  a  pulse  stirred;  and  I  redeemed  my 
promise.  I  sat  there  and  watched  him,  as  1  had  watched 
my  father,  but  with  what  different,  with  what  appalling 
thoughts!  Through  the  long  afternoon  he  gradually 
sank.  All  that  while  I  fought  an  uphill  battle  to  shield 
him  from  the  swarms  of  ants  and  the  clouds  of  mos- 
quitoes :  the  prisoner  of  my  crime.  The  night  fell,  the 
roar  of  insects  instantly  redoubled  in  the  dark  arcades 
of  the  swamp;  and  still  I  was  not  sure  that  he  had 
breathed  his  last.  At  length,  the  flesh  of  his  hand, 
which  1  yet  held  in  mine,  grew  chill  between  my  fingers, 
and  I  knew  that  I  was  free. 

I  took  his  pocket-book  and  the  revolver,  being  re- 
solved rather  to  die  than  to  be  captured,  and  laden  be- 
sides with  the  basket  and  the  bag  of  gems,  set  forward 
towards  the  north.  The  swamp,  at  that  hour  of  the 
night,  was  filled  with  a  continuous  din ;  animals  and  in- 
sects of  all  kinds,  and  all  inimical  to  life,  contributing 
their  parts.  Yet  in  the  midst  of  this  turmoil  of  sound, 
I  walked  as  though  my  eyes  were  bandaged,  beholding 
nothing.  The  soil  sank  under  my  foot,  with  a  horrid, 
slippery  consistence,  as  though  I  were  walking  among 
toads ;  the  touch  of  the  thick  wall  of  foliage,  by  which 
alone  I  guided  myself,  affrighted  me  like  the  touch  of 
serpents;  the  darkness  checked  my  breathing  like  a 
gag;  indeed,  I  have  never  suffered  such  extremes  of 

2IO 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

fear  as  during  that  nocturnal  walk,  nor  have  I  ever 
known  a  more  sensible  relief  than  when  I  found  the 
path  beginning  to  mount  and  to  grow  firmer  under 
foot,  and  saw,  although  still  some  way  in  front  of  me, 
the  silver  brightness  of  the  moon. 

Presently,  I  had  crossed  the  last  of  the  jungle,  and 
come  forth  amongst  noble  and  lofty  woods,  clean  rock, 
the  clean,  dry  dust,  the  aromatic  smell  of  mountain 
plants  that  had  been  baked  all  day  in  sunlight,  and  the 
expressive  silence  of  the  night.  My  negro  blood  had 
carried  me  unhurt  across  that  reeking  and  pestiferous 
morass ;  by  mere  good  fortune,  I  had  escaped  the  crawl- 
ing and  stinging  vermin  with  which  it  was  alive;  and  I 
had  now  before  me  the  easier  portion  of  my  enterprise, 
to  cross  the  isle  and  to  make  good  my  arrival  at  the 
haven  and  my  acceptance  on  the  English  yacht.  It  was 
impossible  by  night  to  follow  such  a  track  as  my  father 
had  described;  and  I  was  casting  about  for  any  land- 
mark, and,  in  my  ignorance,  vainly  consulting  the  dis- 
position of  the  stars,  when  there  fell  upon  my  ear,  from 
somewhere  far  in  front,  the  sound  of  many  voices  hur- 
riedly singing. 

I  scarce  knew  upon  what  grounds  I  acted;  but  I 
shaped  my  steps  in  the  direction  of  that  sound ;  and  in 
a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walking  came  unperceived  to  the 
margin  of  an  open  glade.  It  was  lighted  by  the  strong 
moon  and  by  the  flames  of  a  fire.  In  the  midst,  there 
stood  a  little  low  and  rude  building,  surmounted  by  a 
cross:  a  chapel,  as  I  then  remembered  to  have  heard, 
long  since  desecrated  and  given  over  to  the  rites  of 
Hoodoo.  Hard  by  the  steps  of  entrance  was  a  black 
mass,  continually  agitated  and  stirring  to  and  fro  as  if 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

with  inarticulate  life;  and  this  I  presently  perceived  to 
be  a  heap  of  cocks,  hares,  dogs  and  other  birds  and  an- 
imals, still  struggling,  but  helplessly  tethered  and  cru- 
elly tossed  one  upon  another.  Both  the  fire  and  the 
chapel  were  surrounded  by  a  ring  of  kneeling  Africans, 
both  men  and  women.  Now  they  would  raise  their 
palms  half -closed  to  heaven,  with  a  peculiar,  passionate 
gesture  of  supplication;  now^they  would  bow  their 
heads  and  spread  their  hands  before  them  on  the  ground. 
As  the  double  movement  passed  and  repassed  along  the 
line,  the  heads  kept  rising  and  falling,  like  waves  upon 
the  sea;  and  still,  as  if  in  time  to  these  gesticulations, 
the  hurried  chant  continued.  I  stood  spell-bound, 
knowing  that  my  life  depended  by  a  hair,  knowing 
that  I  had  stumbled  on  a  celebration  of  the  rites  of 
Hoodoo. 

Presently,  the  door  of  the  chapel  opened  and  there 
came  forth  a  tall  negro,  entirely  nude,  and  bearing  in 
his  hand  the  sacrificial  knife.  He  was  followed  by  an 
apparition  still  more  strange  and  shocking:  Madam 
Mendizabal,  naked  also,  and  carrying  in  both  hands 
and  raised  to  the  level  of  her  face,  an  open  basket  of 
wicker.  It  was  filled  with  coiling  snakes ;  and  these, 
as  she  stood  there  with  the  uplifted  basket,  shot  through 
the  osier  grating  and  curled  about  her  arms.  At  the 
sight  of  this,  the  fervour  of  the  crowd  seemed  to  swell 
suddenly  higher;  and  the  chant  rose  in  pitch  and  grew 
more  irregular  in  time  and  accent.  Then,  at  a  sign  from 
the  tall  negro,  where  he  stood,  motionless  and  smiling, 
in  the  moon  and  firelight,  the  singing  died  away,  and 
there  began  the  second  stage  of  this  barbarous  and 
bloody  celebration.     From  different  parts  of  the  ring, 

212 


STORY   OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

one  after  another,  man  or  woman,  ran  forth  into  the 
midst;  ducked,  with  that  same  gesture  of  the  thrown- 
up  hand,  before  the  priestess  and  her  snakes ;  and  with 
various  adjurations,  uttered  aloud  the  blackest  wishes 
of  the  heart.  Death  and  disease  were  the  favours  usually 
invoked :  the  death  or  the  disease  of  enemies  or  rivals ; 
some  calling  down  these  plagues  upon  the  nearest  of 
their  own  blood,  and  one,  to  whom  I  swear  1  had  been 
never  less  than  kind,  invoking  them  upon  myself  At 
each  petition,  the  tall  negro,  still  smiling,  picked  up 
some  bird  or  animal  from  the  heaving  mass  upon  his 
left,  slew  it  with  the  knife,  and  tossed  its  body  on  the 
ground.  At  length,  it  seemed,  it  reached  the  turn  of 
the  high-priestess.  She  set  down  the  basket  on  the 
steps,  moved  into  the  center  of  the  ring,  grovelled  in  the 
dust  before  the  reptiles,  and  still  grovelling  lifted  up  her 
voice,  between  speech  and  singing,  and  with  so  great, 
with  so  insane  fervour  of  excitement,  as  struck  a  sort  of 
horror  through  my  blood. 

"  Power,"  she  began,  **  whose  name  we  do  not  utter; 
power  that  is  neither  good  nor  evil,  but  below  them 
both;  stronger  than  good,  greater  than  evil  —  all  my 
life  long  I  have  adored  and  served  thee.  Who  has  shed 
blood  upon  thine  altars  ?  whose  voice  is  broken  with 
the  singing  of  thy  praises  ?  whose  limbs  are  faint  before 
their  age  with  leaping  in  thy  revels  ?  Who  has  slain  the 
child  of  her  body.^  I,"  she  cried,  "I,  Metamnbogu! 
By  my  own  name,  I  name  myself  I  tear  away  the  veil. 
I  would  be  served  or  perish.  Hear  me,  slime  of  the  fat 
swamp,  blackness  of  the  thunder,  venom  of  the  ser- 
pent's udder  —  hear  or  slay  me !  I  would  have  two 
things,  O  shapeless  one,  O  horror  of  emptiness  —  two 

213 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

things,  or  die!  The  blood  of  my  white-faced  husband; 
oh!  give  me  that;  he  is  the  enemy  of  Hoodoo;  give 
me  his  blood!  And  yet  another,  O  racer  of  the  blind 
winds,  O  germinator  in  the  ruins  of  the  dead,  O  root  of 
life,  root  of  corruption !  I  grow  old,  I  grow  hideous ;  I 
am  known,  I  am  hunted  for  my  life:  let  thy  servant 
then  lay  by  this  outworn  body ;  let  thy  chief  priestess 
turn  again  to  the  blossom  of  her  days,  and  be  a  girl 
once  more,  and  the  desired  of  all  men,  even  as  in  the 
past!  And,  O  lord  and  master,  as  I  here  ask  a  marvel 
not  yet  wrought  since  we  were  torn  from  the  old  land, 
have  I  not  prepared  the  sacrifice  in  which  thy  soul  de- 
lighteth  — the  kid  without  the  horns  ?  " 

Even  as  she  uttered  the  words,  there  was  a  great 
rumour  of  joy  through  all  the  circle  of  the  worshippers; 
it  rose,  and  fell,  and  rose  again ;  and  swelled  at  last  into 
rapture,  when  the  tall  negro,  who  had  stepped  an  in- 
stant into  the  chapeL  reappeared  before  the  door,  car- 
rying in  his  arms  the  body  of  the  slave-girl,  Cora.  I 
know  not  if  I  saw  what  followed.  When  next  my 
mind  awoke  to  a  clear  knowledge,  Cora  was  laid  upon 
the  steps  before  the  serpents;  the  negro  with  the  knife 
stood  over  her;  the  knife  rose,  and  at  this  I  screamed 
out  in  my  great  horror,  bidding  them,  in  God's  name, 
to  pause. 

A  stillness  fell  upon  the  mob  of  cannibals.  A  mo- 
ment more,  and  they  must  have  thrown  off  this  stu- 
por, and  I  infallibly  have  perished.  But  heaven  had  de- 
signed to  save  me.  The  silence  of  these  wretched  men 
was  not  yet  broken,  when  there  arose,  in  the  empty 
night,  a  sound  louder  than  the  roar  of  any  European 
tempest,  swifter  to  travel  than  the  wings  of  any  East- 

214 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

ern  wind.  Blackness  ingulfed  the  world :  blackness, 
stabbed  across  from  every  side  by  intricate  and  blinding 
lightning.  Almost  in  the  same  second,  at  one  world- 
swallowing  stride,  the  heart  of  the  tornado  reached  the 
clearing.  I  heard  an  agonising  crash,  and  the  light  of 
my  reason  was  overwhelmed. 

When  I  recovered  consciousness,  the  day  was  come. 
I  was  unhurt ;  the  trees  close  about  me  had  not  lost  a 
bough;  and  I  might  have  thought  at  first  that  the 
tornado  was  a  feature  in  a  dream.  It  was  otherwise 
indeed ;  for  when  1  looked  abroad,  I  perceived  I  had  es- 
caped destruction  by  a  hand's-breadth.  Right  through 
the  forest,  which  here  covered  hill  and  dale,  the  storm 
had  ploughed  a  lane  of  ruin.  On  either  hand,  the  trees 
waved  uninjured  in  the  air  of  the  morning;  but  in  the 
forthright  course  of  its  advance,  the  hurricane  had  left 
no  trophy  standing.  Every  thing,  in  that  line,  tree, 
man  or  animal,  the  desecrated  chapel  and  the  votaries 
of  Hoodoo,  had  been  subverted  and  destroyed  in  that 
brief  spasm  of  anger  of  the  powers  of  air.  Every  thing, 
but  a  yard  or  two  beyond  the  line  of  its  passage,  hum- 
ble flower,  lofty  tree,  and  the  poor  vulnerable  maid  who 
now  kneeled  to  pay  her  gratitude  to  heaven,  awoke  un- 
harmed in  the  crystal  purity  and  peace  of  the  new  day. 

To  move  by  the  path  of  the  tornado  was  a  thing  im- 
possible to  man,  so  wildly  were  the  wrecks  of  the  tall 
forest  piled  together  by  that  fugitive  convulsion.  I 
crossed  it  indeed ;  with  such  labour  and  patience,  with 
so  many  dangerous  slips  and  falls,  as  left  me,  at  the 
further  side,  bankrupt  alike  of  strength  and  courage. 
There  I  sat  down  awhile  to  recruit  my  forces ;  and  as  I 
ate  (how  should  I  bless  the  kindliness  of  heaven  ! )  my 

215 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

eyes,  flitting  to  and  fro  in  the  colonnade  of  the  great 
trees,  alighted  on  a  trunk  that  had  been  blazed.  Yes, 
by  the  directing  hand  of  providence,  I  had  been  con- 
ducted to  the  very  track  I  was  to  follow.  With  what 
a  light  heart  I  now  set  forth,  and  walking  with  how 
glad  a  step,  traversed  the  uplands  of  the  isle! 

It  was  hard  upon  the  hour  of  noon  when  I  came,  all 
tattered  and  wayworn,  to  the  summit  of  a  steep  de- 
scent, and  looked  below  me  on  the  sea.  About  all  the 
coast,  the  surf,  roused  by  the  tornado  of  the  night,  beat 
with  a  particular  fury  and  made  a  fringe  of  snow.  Close 
at  my  feet,  I  saw  a  haven,  set  in  precipitous  and  palm- 
crowned  bluffs  of  rock.  J  ust  outside,  a  ship  was  heaving 
on  the  surge,  so  trimly  sparred,  so  glossily  painted,  so 
elegant  and  point-device  in  every  feature,  that  my  heart 
was  seized  with  admiration.  The  English  colours  blew 
from  her  masthead ;  and  from  my  high  station,  I  caught 
glimpses  of  her  snowy  planking,  as  she  rolled  on  the 
uneven  deep,  and  saw  the  sun  glitter  on  the  brass  of  her 
deck  furniture.  There,  then,  was  my  ship  of  refuge; 
and  of  all  my  difficulties  only  one  remained :  to  get  on 
board  of  her. 

Half  an  hour  later,  I  issued  at  last  out  of  the  woods 
on  the  margin  of  a  cove,  into  whose  jaws  the  tossing 
and  blue  billows  entered,  and  along  whose  shores  they 
broke  with  a  surprising  loudness.  A  wooded  promon- 
tory hid  the  yacht;  and  I  had  walked  some  distance 
round  the  beach,  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  virgin  soli- 
tude, when  my  eye  fell  on  a  boat,  drawn  into  a  natural 
harbour,  where  it  rocked  in  safety,  but  deserted.  I 
looked  about  for  those  who  should  have  manned  her; 
and  presently,  in  the  immediate  entrance  of  the  wood, 

216 


STORY  OF  THE  FAIR  CUBAN 

Spied  the  red  embers  of  a  fire  and,  stretched  around  in 
various  attitudes,  a  party  of  slumbering  mariners.  To 
these  I  drew  near:  most  were  black,  a  few  white;  but 
all  were  dressed  with  the  conspicuous  decency  of  yachts- 
men ;  and  one,  from  his  peaked  cap  and  glittering  but- 
tons, I  rightly  divined  to  be  an  officer.  Him,  then,  I 
touched  upon  the  shoulder.  He  started  up ;  the  sharp- 
ness of  his  movement  woke  the  rest;  and  they  all  stared 
upon  me  in  surprise. 

**  What  do  you  want  ?  "  inquired  the  officer. 

''To  go  on  board  the  yacht,"  I  answered. 

I  thought  they  all  seemed  disconcerted  at  this ;  and 
the  officer,  with  something  of  sharpness,  asked  me  who 
I  was.  Now  I  had  determined  to  conceal  my  name  un- 
til I  met  Sir  George ;  and  the  first  name  that  rose  to  my 
lips  was  was  that  of  Senora  Mendizabal.  At  the  word, 
there  went  a  shock  about  the  little  party  of  seamen ;  the 
negroes  stared  at  me  with  indescribable  eagerness,  the 
whites  themselves  with  something  of  a  scared  surprise ; 
and  instantly  the  spirit  of  mischief  prompted  me  to  add : 
"  And  if  the  name  is  new  to  your  ears,  call  me  Metamn- 
bogu." 

1  had  never  seen  an  effect  so  wonderful.  The  negroes 
threw  their  hands  into  the  air,  with  the  same  gesture  I 
remarked  the  night  before  about  the  Hoodoo  camp-fire; 
first  one,  and  then  another,  ran  forward  and  kneeled  down 
and  kissed  the  skirts  of  my  torn  dress ;  and  when  the 
white  officer  broke  out  swearing  and  calling  to  know 
if  they  were  mad,  the  coloured  seamen  took  him  by  the 
shoulders,  dragged  him  on  one  side  till  they  were  out 
of  hearing,  and  surrounded  him  with  open  mouths  and 
extravagant  pantomime.     The  officer  seemed  to  strug- 

217 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

gle  hard ;  he  laughed  aloud,  and  I  saw  him  make  ges- 
tures of  dissent  and  protest;  but  in  the  end,  whether 
overcome  by  reason  or  simply  weary  of  resistance,  he 
gave  in — approached  me  civilly  enough,  but  with  some- 
thing of  a  sneering  manner  underneath  —  and  touching 
his  cap,  ''My  lady,"  said  he,  '*  if  that  is  what  you  are, 
the  boat  is  ready." 

My  reception  an  board  the  Nemorosa  (for  so  the 
yacht  was  named)  partook  of  the  same  mingled  nature. 
We  were  scarcely  within  hail  of  that  great  and  elegant 
fabric,  where  she  lay  rolling  gunwale  under  and  churn- 
ing the  blue  sea  to  snow,  before  the  bulwarks  were 
lined  with  the  heads  of  a  great  crowd  of  seamen,  black, 
white  and  yellow ;  and  these  and  the  few  who  manned 
the  boat  began  exchanging  shouts  in  some  lingua 
franca  incomprehensible  to  me.  All  eyes  were  directed 
on  the  passenger,  and  once  more  1  saw  the  negroes  toss 
up  their  hands  to  heaven,  but  now  as  if  with  passionate 
wonder  and  delight. 

At  the  head  of  the  gangway  I  was  received  by  an- 
other officer,  a  gentlemanly  man  with  blond  and  bushy 
whiskers,  and  to  whom  I  addressed  my  demand  to 
see  Sir  George. 

**  But  this  is  not "  he  cried,  and  paused. 

"I  know  it,"  returned  the  other  officer,  who  had 
brought  me  from  the  shore.  '*  But  what  the  devil  can 
we  do  }    Look  at  all  the  niggers! " 

I  followed  his  direction ;  and  as  my  eye  lighted  upon 
each,  the  poor  ignorant  Africans  ducked  and  bowed  and 
threw  their  hands  into  the  air,  as  though  in  the  presence 
of  a  creature  half  divine.  Apparently  the  officer  with 
the  whiskers  had  instantly  come  round  to  the  opinion 

218 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

of  his  subaltern,  for  he  now  addressed  me  with  every 
signal  of  respect. 

"Sir  George  is  at  the  island,  my  lady,"  said  he,  "for 
which,  with  your  ladyship's  permission,  I  shall  imme- 
diately make  all  sail.  The  cabins  are  prepared.  Steward, 
take  Lady  Greville  below." 

Under  this  new  name,  then,  and  so  captivated  by  sur- 
prise that  I  could  neither  think  nor  speak,  I  was  ushered 
into  a  spacious  and  airy  cabin,  hung  about  with  weapons 
and  surrounded  by  divans.  The  steward  asked  for  my 
commands,  but  I  was  by  this  time  so  wearied,  bewil- 
dered and  disturbed  that  I  could  only  wave  him  to  leave 
me  to  myself  and  sink  upon  a  pile  of  cushions.  Pres- 
ently, by  the  changed  motion  of  the  ship,  I  knew  her 
to  be  under  way ;  my  thoughts,  so  far  from  clarifying, 
grew  the  more  distracted  and  confused;  dreams  began 
to  mingle  and  confound  them,  and  at  length,  by  insen- 
sible transition,  I  sank  into  a  dreamless  slumber. 

When  I  awoke  the  day  and  night  had  passed,  and  it 
was  once  more  morning.  The  world  on  which  I  re- 
opened my  eyes  swam  strangely  up  and  down;  the 
jewels  in  the  bag  that  lay  beside  me  chinked  together 
ceaselessly;  the  clock  and  the  barometer  wagged  to  and 
fro  like  pendulums,  and  overhead  seamen  were  singing 
out  at  their  work,  and  coils  of  rope  clattering  and  thump- 
ing on  the  deck.  Yet  it  was  long  before  I  had  divined 
that  I  was  at  sea ;  long  before  I  had  recalled,  one  after 
another,  the  tragical,  mysterious  and  inexplicable  events 
that  had  brought  me  where  I  was. 

When  I  had  done  so,  I  thrust  the  jewels,  which  I  was 
surprised  to  find  had  been  respected,  into  the  bosom  of 
my  dress,  and  seeing  a  silver  bell  hard  by  upon  a  table, 

219 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

rang  it  loudly.  The  steward  instantly  appeared ;  I  asked 
for  food,  and  he  proceeded  to  lay  the  table,  regarding 
me  the  while  with  a  disquieting  and  pertinacious  scru- 
tiny. To  relieve  myself  of  my  embarrassment,  1  asked 
him,  with  as  fair  a  show  of  ease  as  I  could  muster,  if  it 
were  usual  for  yachts  to  carry  so  numerous  a  crew  ? 

"  Madam,"  said  he,  ''I  know  not  who  you  are,  nor 
what  mad  fancy  has  induced  you  to  usurp  a  name  and 
an  appalling  destiny  that  are  not  yours.  I  warn  you 
from  the  soul.     No  sooner  arrived  at  the  island " 

At  this  moment  he  was  interrupted  by  the  whiskered 
officer,  who  had  entered  unperceived  behind  him,  and 
now  laid  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  The  sudden  pallor, 
the  deadly  and  sick  fear  that  was  imprinted  on  the  stew- 
ard's face,  formed  a  startling  addition  to  his  words. 

**  Parker!  "  said  the  officer,  and  pointed  towards  the 
door. 

'*  Yes,  Mr.  Kentish,"  said  the  steward.  '*  For  God's 
sake,  Mr.  Kentish!"  and  vanished  with  a  white  face 
from  the  cabin. 

Thereupon  the  officer  bade  me  sit  down,  and  began 
to  help  me,  and  join  in  the  meal.  "I  fill  your  ladyship's 
glass,"  said  he,  and  handed  me  a  tumbler  of  neat  rum. 

*' Sir,"  cried  1,  "do  you  expect  me  to  drink  this ? " 

He  laughed  heartily.  "Your  ladyship  is  so  much 
changed,"  said  he,  "that  I  no  longer  expect  any  one 
thing  more  than  any  other." 

Immediately  after,  a  white  seaman  entered  the  cabin, 
saluted  both  Mr.  Kentish  and  myself,  and  informed  the 
officer  there  was  a  sail  in  sight,  which  was  bound  to 
pass  us  very  close,  and  that  Mr.  Harlan d  was  in  doubt 
about  the  colours. 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

** Being  so  near  the  island?"  asked  Mr.  Kentish. 

''That  was  what  Mr.  Harland  said,  sir,"  returned  the 
sailor,  with  a  scrape. 

''  Better  not,  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Kentish.  ''  My  com- 
pliments to  Mr.  Harland ;  and  if  she  seem  a  lively  boat, 
give  her  the  stars  and  stripes;  but  if  she  be  dull,  and  we 
can  easily  outsail  her,  show  John  Dutchman.  That  is 
always  another  word  for  incivility  at  sea ;  so  we  can  dis- 
regard a  hail  or  a  flag  of  distress,  without  attracting  no- 
tice." 

As  soon  as  the  sailor  had  gone  on  deck,  I  turned  to 
the  officer  in  wonder.  ''Mr.  Kentish,  if  that  be  your 
name,  "said  I,  "  are  you  ashamed  of  your  own  colours.^" 

"Your  ladyship  refers  to  the  'Jolly  Roger'  ?  "  he  in- 
quired, with  perfect  gravity ;  and  immediately  after,  went 
into  peals  of  laughter.  "Pardon  me,"  said  he;  "but 
here  for  the  first  time,  I  recognise  your  ladyship's  im- 
petuosity." Nor,  try  as  I  pleased,  could  1  extract  from 
him  any  explanation  of  this  mystery,  but  only  oily  and 
commonplace  evasion. 

While  we  were  thus  occupied,  the  movement  of  the 
Nemorosa  gradually  became  less  violent;  its  speed  at 
the  same  time  diminished ;  and  presently  after,  with  a 
sullen  plunge,  the  anchor  was  discharged  into  the  sea. 
Kentish  immediately  rose,  offered  his  arm  and  con- 
ducted me  on  deck;  where  I  found  we  were  lying  in  a 
roadstead  among  many  low  and  rocky  islets,  hovered 
about  by  an  innumerable  cloud  of  sea-fowl.  Immedi- 
ately under  our  board,  a  somewhat  larger  isle  was  green 
with  trees,  set  with  a  few  low  buildings  and  approached 
by  a  pier  of  very  crazy  workmanship ;  and  a  little  in- 
shore of  us,  a  smaller  vessel  lay  at  anchor. 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

I  had  scarce  time  to  glance  to  the  four  quarters,  ere  a 
boat  was  lowered.  I  was  handed  in,  Kentish  took  place 
beside  me,  and  we  pulled  briskly  to  the  pier.  A  crowd 
of  villainous,  armed  loiterers,  both  black  and  white, 
looked  on  upon  our  landing;  and  again  the  word  passed 
about  among  the  negroes,  and  again  I  was  received  with 
prostrations  and  the  same  gesture  of  the  flung-up  hand. 
By  this,  what  with  the  appearance  of  these  men  and  the 
lawless,  sea-girt  spot  in  which  I  found  myself,  my  cou- 
rage began  a  little  to  decline,  and  clinging  to  the  arm 
of  Mr.  Kentish,  I  begged  him  to  tell  me  what  it  meant  ? 

''Nay,  madam,"  he  returned,  ''you  know."  And 
leading  me  smartly  through  the  crowd,  which  contin- 
ued to  follow  at  a  considerable  distance,  and  at  which 
he  still  kept  looking  back,  I  thought,  with  apprehension, 
he  brought  me  to  a  low  house  that  stood  alone  in  an 
encumbered  yard,  opened  the  door,  and  begged  me  to 
enter. 

'*But  why?"  said  I.  ''I  demanded  to  see  Sir 
George." 

"Madam,"  returned  Mr.  Kentish,  looking  suddenly 
as  black  as  thunder,  *'to  drop  all  fence,  I  know  neither 
who  nor  what  you  are ;  beyond  the  fact  that  you  are  not 
the  person  whose  name  you  have  assumed.  But  be 
what  you  please,  spy,  ghost,  devil  or  most  ill-judging 
jester,  if  you  do  not  immediately  enter  that  house,  I 
will  cut  you  to  the  earth."  And  even  as  he  spoke,  he 
threw  an  uneasy  glance  behind  him  at  the  following 
crowd  of  blacks. 

I  did  not  wait  to  be  twice  threatened ;  I  obeyed  at 
once  and  with  a  palpitating  heart;  and  the  next  mo- 
ment, the  door  was  locked  from  outside  and  the  key 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

withdrawn.  The  interior  was  long,  low  and  quite  un- 
furnished, but  filled,  almost  from  end  to  end,  with 
sugar-cane,  tar  barrels,  old  tarry  rope,  and  other  in- 
congruous and  highly  inflammable  material;  and  not 
only  was  the  door  locked,  but  the  solitary  window 
barred  with  iron. 

I  was  by  this  time  so  exceedingly  bewildered  and 
afraid,  that  I  would  have  given  years  of  my  life  to  be 
once  more  the  slave  of  Mr.  Caulder.  I  still  stood,  with 
my  hands  clasped,  the  image  of  despair,  looking  about 
me  on  the  lumber  room  or  raising  my  eyes  to  heaven ; 
when  there  appeared  outside  the  window  bars,  the  face 
of  a  very  black  negro,  who  signed  to  me  imperiously  to 
draw  near.  I  did  so,  and  he  instantly,  and  with  every 
mark  of  fervour,  addressed  me  a  long  speech  in  some 
unknown  and  barbarous  tongue. 

"I  declare,"  I  cried,  clasping  my  brow,  "I  do  not 
understand  one  syllable." 

**Not  ?  "  he  said  in  Spanish.  "  Great,  great,  are  the 
powers  of  Hoodoo !  Her  very  mind  is  changed !  But 
O  chief  priestess,  why  have  you  suffered  yourself  to  be 
shut  into  this  cage  ?  why  did  you  not  call  your  slaves  at 
once  to  your  defense  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  all  has  been 
prepared  to  murder  you  ?  at  a  spark,  this  flimsy  house 
will  go  in  flames;  and  alas!  who  shall  then  be  the 
chief  priestess  ?  and  what  shall  be  the  profit  of  the 
miracle  ?  " 

''Heavens! "  cried  I,  "can  I  not  see  Sir  George.^  I 
must,  I  must,  come  by  speech  of  him.  Oh  bring  me 
to  Sir  George!  "  And,  my  terror  fairly  mastering  my 
courage,  I  fell  upon  my  knees  and  began  to  pray  to  all 
the  saints. 

223 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

**  Lordy ! "  cried  the  negro,  "  here  they  come!  "  And 
his  black  head  was  instantly  withdrawn  from  the  win- 
dow. 

'*  I  never  heard  such  nonsense  in  my  life,"  exclaimed 
a  voice. 

**  Why,  so  we  all  say,  Sir  George,"  replied  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Kentish.  **  But  put  yourself  in  our  place.  The 
•niggers  were  near  two  to  one.  And  upon  my  word,  if 
you'll  excuse  me,  sir,  considering  the  notion  they  have 
taken  in  their  heads,  I  regard  it  as  precious  fortunate  for 
all  of  us  that  the  mistake  occurred." 

**This  is  no  question  of  fortune,  sir,"  returned  Sir 
George.  *'  It  is  a  question  of  my  orders,  and  you  may 
take  my  word  for  it,  Kentish,  either  Harland,  or  your- 
self, or  Parker  —  or,  by  George!  all  three  of  you  —  shall 
swing  for  this  affair.  These  are  my  sentiments.  Give 
me  the  key  and  be  off." 

Immediately  after,  the  key  turned  in  the  lock;  and 
there  appeared  upon  the  threshold  a  gentleman,  be- 
tween forty  and  fifty,  with  a  very  open  countenance 
and  of  a  stout  and  personable  figure. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  said  he,  "  who  the  devil  may 
you  be  ?  " 

I  told  him  my  story  in  a  rush  of  words.  He  heard 
me,  from  the  first,  with  an  amazement  you  can  scarcely 
picture,  but  when  I  came  to  the  death  of  the  Senora 
Mendizabal  in  the  tornado,  he  fairly  leaped  into  the  air. 

*'My  dear  child,"  he  cried,  clasping  me  in  his  arms, 
*'  excuse  a  man  who  might  be  your  father!  This  is  the 
best  news  I  have  heard  since  I  was  born ;  for  that  hag 
of  a  mulatto  was  no  less  a  person  than  my  wife."  He 
sat  down  upon  a  tar-barrel,  as  if  unmanned  by  joy. 

224 


STORY   OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

*'  Dear  me,"  said  he,  ''I  declare  this  tempts  me  to  be- 
lieve in  Providence.  And  what,"  he  added,  "can  I  do 
for  you  ?  " 

"Sir  George,"  said  I,  "lam  already  rich:  all  that  I 
ask  is  your  protection." 

"Understand  one  thing,"  he  said,  with  great  energy : 
"I  will  never  marry." 

"I  had  not  ventured  to  propose  it,"  I  exclaimed,  un- 
able to  restrain  my  mirth;  "  1  only  seek  to  be  conveyed 
to  England,  the  natural  home  of  the  escaped  slave." 

"Well,"  returned  Sir  George,  "frankly  I  owe  you 
one  for  this  exhilarating  news ;  besides,  your  father  was 
of  use  to  me.  Now,  I  have  made  up  a  small  compe- 
tence in  business  —  a  jewel  mine,  a  sort  of  naval  agency, 
et  caetera,  and  I  am  on  the  point  of  breaking  up  my 
company,  and  retiring  to  my  place  in  Devonshire  to 
pass  a  plain  old  age,  unmarried.  One  good  turn  de- 
serves another:  if  you  swear  to  hold  your  tongue  about 
this  island,  these  little  bonfire  arrangements,  and  the 
whole  episode  of  my  unfortunate  marriage,  why,  I'll 
carry  you  home  aboard  the  Nemorosa." 

I  eagerly  accepted  his  conditions. 

"One  thing  more,"  said  he.  "My  late  wife  was 
some  sort  of  a  sorceress  among  the  blacks;  and  they  are 
all  persuaded  she  has  come  alive  again  in  your  agreeable 
person.  Now,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  keep  up 
that  fancy,  if  you  please;  and  to  swear  to  them,  on  the 
authority  of  Hoodoo  or  whatever  his  name  may  be,  that 
I  am  from  this  moment  quite  a  sacred  character." 

"I  swear  it,"  said  I,  "by  my  father's  memory;  and 
that  is  a  vow  that  I  will  never  break." 

"I  have  considerably  better  hold  on  you  than  any 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

oath,"  returned  Sir  George,  with  a  chuckle;  "for  you 
are  not  only  an  escaped  slave,  but  have,  by  your  own 
account,  a  considerable  amount  of  stolen  property." 

I  was  struck  dumb ;  I  saw  it  was  too  true ;  in  a  glance, 
I  recognised  that  these  jewels  were  no  longer  mine ;  with 
similar  quickness,  I  decided  they  should  be  restored,  ay, 
if  it  cost  me  the  liberty  that  1  had  just  regained.  For- 
getful of  all  else,  forgetful  of  Sir  George,  who  sat  and 
watched  me  with  a  smile,  I  drew  out  Mr.  Caulder's 
pocket-book  and  turned  to  the  page  on  which  the  dying 
man  had  scrawled  his  testament.  How  shall  I  describe 
the  agony  of  happiness  and  remorse,  with  which  I  read 
it!  for  my  victim  had  not  only  set  me  free,  but  be- 
queathed to  me  the  bag  of  jewels. 

My  plain  tale  draws  toward  a  close.  Sir  George  and 
I,  in  my  character  of  his  rejuvenated  wife,  displayed  our- 
selves arm-in-arm  among  the  negroes,  and  were  cheered 
and  followed  to  the  place  of  embarkation.  There,  Sir 
George,  turning  about,  made  a  speech  to  his  old  com- 
panions, in  which  he  thanked  and  bade  them  farewell 
with  a  very  manly  spirit;  and  toward  the  end  of  which, 
he  fell  on  some  expressions  which  I  still  remember. 
'*  If  any  of  you  gentry  lose  your  money,"  he  said,  "  take 
care  you  do  not  come  to  me;  for  in  the  first  place,  1 
shall  do  my  best  to  have  you  murdered ;  and  if  that 
fails,  I  hand  you  over  to  the  law.  Blackmail  won't  do 
for  me.  I'll  rather  risk  all  upon  a  cast,  than  be  pulled 
to  pieces  by  degrees.  I'll  rather  be  found  out  and  hang, 
than  give  a  doit  to  one  man-jack  of  you."  That  same 
night  we  got  under  way  and  crossed  to  the  port  of  New 
Orleans,  whence,  as  a  sacred  trust,  I  sent  the  pocket- 
book  to  Mr.  Caulder's  son.     In  a  week's  time,  the  men 

226 


STORY   OF   THE   FAIR   CUBAN 

were  all  paid  off;  new  hands  were  shipped;  and  the 
Nemorosa  weighed  her  anchor  for  Old  England. 

A  more  delightful  voyage  it  were  hard  to  fancy.  Sir 
George,  of  course,  was  not  a  conscientious  man ;  but  he 
had  an  unaffected  gayety  of  character  that  naturally  en- 
deared him  to  the  young;  and  it  was  interesting  to  hear 
him  lay  out  his  projects  for  the  future,  when  he  should 
be  returned  to  parliament,  and  place  at  the  service  of  the 
nation  his  experience  of  marine  affairs.  I  asked  him, 
if  his  notion  of  piracy  upon  a  private  yacht  were  not 
original.  But  he  told  me,  no.  **A  yacht,  Miss  Val- 
devia,"  he  observed,  **is  a  chartered  nuisance.  Who 
smuggles  ?  Who  robs  the  salmon  rivers  of  the  west  of 
Scotland  }  Who  cruelly  beats  the  keepers  if  they  dare 
to  intervene  ?  The  crews  and  the  proprietors  of  yachts. 
All  I  have  done  is  to  extend  the  line  a  trifle;  and  if  you 
ask  me  for  my  unbiassed  opinion,  1  do  not  suppose  that 
i  am  in  the  least  alone." 

In  short  we  were  the  best  of  friends,  and  lived  like 
father  and  daughter ;  though  I  still  withheld  from  him, 
of  course,  that  respect  which  is  only  due  to  moral  ex- 
cellence. 

We  were  still  some  days'  sail  from  England,  when 
Sir  George  obtained,  from  an  outward-bound  ship,  a 
packet  of  newspapers ;  and  from  that  fatal  hour  my  mis- 
fortunes recommenced.  He  sat,  the  same  evening,  in 
the  cabin,  reading  the  news,  and  making  savoury  com- 
ments on  the  decline  of  England  and  the  poor  condition 
of  the  navy ;  when  I  suddenly  observed  him  to  change 
countenance. 

*' Hullo!"  said  he,  ''this  is  bad;  this  is  deuced  bad, 
Miss  Valdevia.     You  would  not  listen  to  sound  sense, 

227 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

you  would  send  that  pocket-book  to  that  man  Caulder's 
son." 

"Sir  George,"  said  I,  "it  was  my  duty." 

"  You  are  prettily  paid  for  it,  at  least,"  says  he;  "and 
much  as  I  regret  it,  I,  for  one,  am  done  with  you.  This 
fellow  Caulder  demands  your  extradition." 

"  But  a  slave,"  I  returned,  "is  safe  in  England." 

"Yes,  by  George! "  replied  the  baronet;  "but  it's 
not  a  slave,  Miss  Valdevia,  it's  a  thief  that  he  demands. 
He  has  quietly  destroyed  the  will;  and  now  accuses  you 
of  robbing  your  father's  bankrupt  estate  of  jewels  to  the 
value  of  a  hundred  thousand  pounds." 

I  was  so  much  overcome  by  indignation  at  this  hateful 
charge  and  concern  for  my  unhappy  fate  that  the  genial 
baronet  made  haste  to  put  me  more  at  ease. 

"Do  not  be  cast  down,"  said  he.  "Of  course,  I 
wash  my  hands  of  you,  myself.  A  man  in  my  position 
—  baronet,  old  family,  and  all  that  —  cannot  possibly 
be  too  particular  about  the  company  he  keeps.  But  I 
am  a  deuced  good-humoured  old  boy,  let  me  tell  you, 
when  not  ruffled,  and  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  to  put  you 
right.  I  will  lend  you  a  trifle  of  ready  money,  give  you 
the  address  of- an  excellent  lawyer  in  London,  and  find 
a  way  to  set  you  on  shore  unsuspected." 

He  was  in  every  particular  as  good  as  his  word. 
Four  days  later,  the  Nemorosa  sounded  her  way,  un- 
der the  cloak  of  a  dark  night,  into  a  certain  haven  of 
the  coast  of  England;  and  a  boat,  rowing  with  muffled 
oars,  set  me  ashore  upon  the  beach  within  a  stone's 
throw  of  a  railway  station.  Thither,  guided  by  Sir 
George's  directions,  1  groped  a  devious  way ;  and  find- 
ing a  bench  upon  the  platform,  sat  me  down,  wrapped 

2a8 


STORY  OF  THE   FAIR  CUBAN 

in  a  man's  fur  great-coat,  to  await  the  coming  of  the 
day.  It  was  still  dark  when  a  light  was  struck  behind 
one  of  the  windows  of  the  building;  nor  had  the  east 
begun  to  kindle  to  the  warmer  colours  of  the  dawn,  be- 
fore a  porter,  carrying  a  lantern,  issued  from  the  door 
and  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  unfortunate 
Teresa.  He  looked  all  about  him ;  in  the  gray  twilight 
of  the  dawn,  the  haven  was  seen  to  lie  deserted,  and  the 
yacht  had  long  since  disappeared. 

*'  Who  are  you .?"  he  cried. 

"I  am  a  traveller,"  said  I. 

"And  where  do  you  come  from  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  going  by  the  first  train,  to  London,"  I  replied. 

In  such  manner,  like  a  ghost  or  a  new  creation,  was 
Teresa  with  her  bag  of  jewels  landed  on  the  shores  of 
England;  in  this  silent  fashion,  without  history  or  name, 
she  took  her  place  among  the  millions  of  a  new  coun- 
try. 

Since  then,  I  have  lived  by  the  expedients  of  my  law- 
yer, lying  concealed  in  quiet  lodgings,  dogged  by  the 
spies  of  Cuba,  and  not  knowing  at  what  hour  my  lib- 
erty and  honour  may  be  lost 


2^9 


THE  BROWN  BOX 

(concluded) 

The  effect  of  this  tale  on  the  mind  of  Harry  Desbor- 
ough  was  instant  and  convincing.  The  fair  Cuban  had 
been  already  the  loveliest,  she  now  became  in  his  eyes, 
the  most  romantic,  the  most  innocent  and  the  most  un- 
happy of  her  sex.  He  was  bereft  of  words  to  utter  what 
he  felt :  what  pity,  what  admiration,  what  youthful  envy 
of  a  career  so  vivid  and  adventurous.  *'  Oh,  madam ! " 
he  began;  and  finding  no  language  adequate  to  that 
apostrophe,  caught  up  her  hand  and  wrung  it  in  his 
own.  ''Count  upon  me,"  he  added,  with  bewildered 
fervour;  and  getting  somehow  or  other  out  of  the  apart- 
ment and  from  the  circle  of  that  radiant  sorceress,  he 
found  himself  in  the  strange  out-of-doors,  beholding 
dull  houses,  wondering  at  dull  passers-by,  a  fallen  an- 
gel. She  had  smiled  upon  him  as  he  left,  and  with  how 
significant,  how  beautiful  a  smile!  The  memory  lin- 
gered in  his  heart;  and  when  he  found  his  way  to  a 
certain  restaurant  where  music  was  performed,  flutes 
(as  it  were  of  Paradise)  accompanied  his  meal.  The 
strings  went  to  the  melody  of  that  parting  smile;  they 
paraphrased  and  glossed  it  in  the  sense  that  he  desired ; 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  plain  and  somewhat  dreary 
life,  he  perceived  himself  to  have  a  taste  for  music. 

2^0 


THE  BROWN   BOX 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  his  meditations  moved 
to  that  delectable  air.  Now  he  saw  her  and  was  fa- 
voured; now  saw  her  not  at  all;  now  saw  her  and 
was  put  by.  The  fall  of  her  foot  upon  the  stair  en- 
tranced him ;  the  books  that  he  sought  out  and  read, 
were  books  on  Cuba  and  spoke  of  her  indirectly ;  nay, 
and  in  the  very  landlady's  parlour,  he  found  one  that  told 
of  precisely  such  a  hurricane,  and,  down  to  the  smallest 
detail,  confirmed  (had  confirmation  been  required)  the 
truth  of  her  recital.  Presently  he  began  to  fall  into  that 
prettiest  mood  of  a  young  love,  in  which  the  lover  scorns 
himself  for  his  presumption.  Who  was  he,  the  dull 
one,  the  commonplace  unemployed,  the  man  without 
adventure,  the  impure,  the  untruthful,  to  aspire  to  such 
a  creature  made  of  fire  and  air,  and  hallowed  and 
adorned  by  such  incomparable  passages  of  life  ?  What 
should. he  do  to  be  more  worthy  ?  By  what  devotion 
call  down  the  notice  of  these  eyes  to  so  terrene  a  being 
as  himself? 

He  betook  himself,  thereupon,  to  the  rural  privacy  of 
the  square,  where,  being  a  lad  of  a  kind  heart,  he  had 
made  himself  a  circle  of  acquaintances  among  its  shy 
frequenters,  the  half-domestic  cats  and  the  visitors  that 
hung  before  the  windows  of  the  Children's  Hospital. 
There  he  walked,  considering  the  depth  of  his  demerit 
and  the  height  of  the  adored  one's  super-excellence; 
now  lighting  upon  earth  to  say  a  pleasant  word  to  the 
brother  of  some  infant  invalid ;  now,  with  a  great  heave 
of  breath,  remembering  the  queen  of  women,  and  the 
sunshine  of  his  life. 

What  was  he  to  do  ?  Teresa,  he  had  observed,  was 
in  the  habit  of  leaving  the  house  toward  afternoon ;  she 

231 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

might,  perchance,  run  danger  from  some  Cuban  emis- 
sary, when  the  presence  of  a  friend  might  turn  the  bal- 
ance in  her  favour:  how,  then,  if  he  should  follow  her? 
To  offer  his  company  would  seem  like  an  intrusion ;  to 
dog  her  openly  were  a  manifest  impertinence;  he  saw 
himself  reduced  to  a  more  stealthy  part,  which,  though 
in  some  ways  distasteful  to  his  mind,  he  did  not  doubt 
that  he  could  practise  with  the  skill  of  a  detective. 

The  next  day  he  proceeded  to  put  his  plan  in  action. 
At  the  corner  of  Tottenham  Court  Road,  however,  the 
Sefiorita  suddenly  turned  back,  and  met  him  face  to 
face,  with  every  mark  of  pleasure  and  surprise. 

"Ah,  Senor,  I  am  sometimes  fortunate!"  she  cried. 
*'  I  was  looking  for  a  messenger; "  and  with  the  sweet- 
est of  smiles,  she  dispatched  him  to  the  east  end  of 
London,  to  an  address  which  he  was  unable  to  find. 
This  was  a  bitter  pill  to  the  knight-errant;  but  when  he 
returned  at  night,  worn  out  with  fruitless  wandering 
and  dismayed  by  his  Jiasco,  the  lady  received  him  with 
a  friendly  gayety,  protesting  that  all  was  for  the  best, 
since  she  had  changed  her  mind  and  long  since  repented 
of  her  message. 

Next  day  he  resumed  his  labours,  glowing  with  pity 
and  courage,  and  determined  to  protect  Teresa  with 
his  life.  But  a  painful  shock  awaited  him.  In  the  nar- 
row and  silent  Hanway  Street,  she  turned  suddenly 
about  and  addressed  him  with  a  manner  and  a  light  in 
her  eyes,  that  were  new  to  the  young  man's  experience. 

"  Do  I  understand  that  you  follow  me,  Senor  ?  "  she 
cried.  *  'Are  these  the  manners  of  the  English  gentleman  ?" 

Harry  confounded  himself  in  the  most  abject  apolo- 
gies and  prayers  to  be  forgiven,  vowed  to  offend  no 

232 


THE  BROWN   BOX 

more,  and  was  at  length  dismissed,  crestfallen  and 
heavy  of  heart.  The  check  was  final ;  he  gave  up  that 
road  to  service;  and  began  once  more  to  hang  about 
the  square  or  on  the  terrace,  filled  with  remorse  and 
love,  admirable  and  idiotic,  a  fit  object  for  the  scorn  and 
envy  of  older  men.  In  these  idle  hours,  while  he  was 
courting  fortune  for  a  sight  of  the  beloved,  it  fell  out 
naturally  that  he  should  observe  the  manners  and  ap- 
pearance of  such  as  came  about  the  house.  One  per- 
son alone  was  the  occasional  visitor  of  the  young  lady ; 
a  man  of  considerable  stature  and  distinguished  only  by 
the  doubtful  ornament  of  a  chin-beard  in  the  style  of  an 
American  deacon.  Something  in  his  appearance  grated 
upon  Harry ;  this  distaste  grew  upon  him  in  the  course 
of  days ;  and  when  at  length  he  mustered  courage  to  in- 
quire of  the  fair  Cuban  who  this  was,  he  was  yet  more 
dismayed  by  her  reply. 

"That  gentleman,"  said  she,  a  smile  struggling  to 
her  face,  "that  gentleman,  I  will  not  attempt  to  con- 
ceal from  you,  desires  my  hand  in  marriage,  and  presses 
me  with  the  most  respectful  ardour.  Alas,  what  am  I 
to  say  ?  I,  the  forlorn  Teresa,  how  shall  I  refuse  or  ac- 
cept such  protestations  ?  " 

Harry  feared  to  say  more;  a  horrid  pang  of  jealousy 
transfixed  him ;  and  he  had  scarce  the  strength  of  mind 
to  take  his  leave  with  decency.  In  the  solitude  of  his 
own  chamber,  he  gave  way  to  every  manifestation  of 
despair.  He  passionately  adored  the  Senorita;  but  it 
was  not  only  the  thought  of  her  possible  union  with 
another  that  distressed  his  soul,  it  was  the  indefeasible 
conviction  that  her  suitor  was  unworthy.  To  a  duke, 
a  bishop,  a  victorious  general,  or  any  man  adorned  with 

233 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

obvious  qualities,  he  had  resigned  her  with  a  sort  of 
bitter  joy;  he  saw  himself  follow  the  wedding  party 
from  a  great  way  off;  he  saw  himself  return  to  the  poor 
house,  then  robbed  of  its  jewel;  and  while  he  could 
have  wept  for  his  despair,  he  felt  he  could  support 
it  nobly.  But  this  affair  looked  otherwise.  The  man 
was  patently  no  gentleman ;  he  had  a  startled,  skulking, 
guilty  bearing;  his  nails  were  black,  his  eyes  evasive; 
his  love  perhaps  was  a  pretext;  he  was,  perhaps,  under 
this  deep  disguise,  a  Cuban  emissary !  Harry  swore  that 
he  would  satisfy  these  doubts ;  and  the  next  evening, 
about  the  hour  of  the  usual  visit,  he  posted  himself  at  a 
spot  whence  his  eye  commanded  the  three  issues  of  the 
square. 

Presently  after,  a  four-wheeler  rumbled  to  the  door; 
and  the  man  with  the  chin-beard  alighted,  paid  off  the 
cabman,  and  was  seen  by  Harry  to  enter  the  house  with 
a  brown  box  hoisted  on  his  back.  Half  an  hour  later,  he 
came  forth  again  without  the  box,  and  struck  eastward 
at  a  rapid  walk ;  and  Desborough,  with  the  same  skill 
and  caution  that  he  had  displayed  in  following  Teresa, 
proceeded  to  dog  the  steps  of  her  admirer.  The  man 
began  to  loiter,  studying  with  apparent  interest  the 
wares  of  the  small  fruiterer  or  tobacconist ;  twice  he  re- 
turned hurriedly  upon  his  former  course;  and  then,  as 
though  he  had  suddenly  conquered  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, once  more  set  forth  with  resolute  and  swift  steps 
in  the  direction  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  At  length,  in  a  de- 
serted by-street,  he  turned;  and  coming  up  to  Harry 
with  a  countenance  which  seemed  to  have  become  older 
and  whiter,  inquired  with  some  severity  of  speech  if  he 
had  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  gentleman  before. 

234 


THE   BROWN   BOX 

**  You  have,  sir,"  said  Harry,  somewhat  abashed,  but 
with  a  good  show  of  stoutness;  **and  I  will  not  deny 
that  I  was  following  you  on  purpose.  Doubtless,"  he 
added,  for  he  supposed  that  all  men's  minds  must  still 
be  running  on  Teresa,  "  you  can  divine  my  reason." 

At  these  words,  the  man  with  the  chin-beard  was 
seized  with  a  palsied  tremor.  He  seemed,  for  some 
seconds,  to  seek  the  utterance  which  his  fear  denied 
him ;  and  then  whipping  sharply  about,  he  took  to  his 
heels  at  the  most  furious  speed  of  running. 

Harry  was  at  first  so  taken  aback  that  he  neglected 
to  pursue ;  and  by  the  time  he  had  recovered  his  wits, 
his  best  expedition  was  only  rewarded  by  a  glimpse  of 
the  man  with  the  chin-beard  mounting  into  a  hansom, 
which  immediately  after  disappeared  into  the  moving 
crowds  of  Holborn. 

Puzzled  and  dismayed  by  this  unusual  behaviour, 
Harry  returned  to  the  house  in  Queen  Square,  and  ven- 
tured for  the  first  time  to  knock  at  the  fair  Cuban's  door. 
She  bade  him  enter,  and  he  found  her  kneeling  with 
rather  a  disconsolate  air  beside  a  brown  wooden  trunk. 

*'Senorita,"  he  broke  out,  "I  doubt  whether  that 
man's  character  is  what  he  wishes  you  to  believe.  His 
manner,  when  he  found,  and  indeed  when  I  admitted 
that  I  was  following  him,  was  not  the  manner  of  an 
honest  man." 

**Oh  !"  she  cried,  throwing  up  her  hands  as  in  des- 
peration, ''Don  Quixote,  Don  Quixote,  have  you  again 
been  tilting  against  windmills?"  And  then,  with  a 
laugh,  **  Poor  soul  !  "  she  added,  "  how  you  must  have 
terrified  him  !  For  know  that  the  Cuban  authorities 
are  here,  and  your  poor  Teresa  may  soon  be  hunted 

235 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

down.  Even  yon  humble  clerk  from  my  solicitor's 
office  may  find  himself  at  any  moment  the  quarry  of 
armed  spies." 

"  A  humble  clerk  ?  "  cried  Harry;  "why,  you  told  me 
yourself  that  he  wished  to  marry  you! " 

*'l  thought  you  English  like  what  you  call  a  joke," 
replied  the  lady,  calmly.  '*  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  is 
my  lawyer's  clerk,  and  has  been  here  to-night  charged 
with  disastrous  news.  I  am  in  sore  straits,  Senor  Harry. 
Will  you  help  me  ?" 

At  this  most  welcomed  word,  the  young  man's  heart 
exulted;  and  in  the  hope,  pride  and  self-esteem,  that 
kindled  with  the  very  thought  of  service,  he  forgot  to 
dwell  upon  the  lady's  jest.  "Can  you  ask  ? "  he  cried. 
"What  is  there  that  I  can  do ?    Only  tell  me  that." 

With  signs  of  an  emotion  that  was  certainly  unfeigned, 
the  fair  Cuban  laid  her  hand  upon  the  box.  "This 
box,"  she  said,  "contains  my  jewels,  papers  and 
clothes ;  all,  in  a  word,  that  still  connects  me  with  Cuba 
and  my  dreadful  past.  They  must  now  be  smuggled 
out  of  England;  or,  by  the  opinion  of  my  lawyer,  I  am 
lost  beyond  remedy.  To-morrow,  on  board  the  Irish 
packet,  a  sure  hand  awaits  the  box;  the  problem  still 
unsolved,  is  to  find  some  one  to  carry  it  as  far  as  Holy- 
head, to  see  it  placed  on  board  the  steamer,  and  in- 
stantly return  to  town.  Will  you  be  he?  Will  you 
leave  to-morrow  by  the  first  train,  punctually  obey 
orders,  bear  still  in  mind  that  you  are  surrounded  by 
Cuban  spies;  and  without  so  much  as  a  look  behind 
you,  or  a  single  movement  to  betray  your  interest,  leave 
the  box  where  you  have  put  it  and  come  straight  on 
shore  ?    Will  you  do  this,  and  so  save  your  friend  ?  " 

236 


THE   BROWN    BOX 

*M  do  not  clearly  understand "  began  Harry. 

**No  more  do  I,"  replied  the  Cuban.  **  It  is  not  nec- 
essary that  we  should,  so  long  as  we  obey  the  lawyer's 
orders." 

"Senorita,"  returned  Harry,  gravely,  *'I  think  this,  of 
course,  a  very  little  thing  to  do  for  you,  when  I  would 
willingly  do  all.  But  suffer  me  to  say  one  word.  If 
London  is  unsafe  for  your  treasures,  it  cannot  long  be 
safe  for  you ;  and  indeed,  if  I  at  all  fathom  the  plan  of 
your  solicitor,  I  fear  I  may  find  you  already  fled  on  my 
return.  I  am  not  considered  clever,  and  can  only  speak 
out  plainly  what  is  in  my  heart:  that  I  love  you,  and 
that  I  cannot  bear  to  lose  all  knowledge  of  you.  I  hope 
no  more  than  to  be  your  servant;  I  ask  no  more  than 
just  that  I  shall  hear  of  you.  Oh,  promise  me  so 
much  ! " 

**  You  shall,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  ''I  promise  you, 
you  shall."  But  though  she  spoke  with  earnestness,  the 
marks  of  great  embarrassment  and  a  strong  conflict  of 
emotions  appeared  upon  her  face. 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you,"  resumed  Desborough,  "in  case 
of  accidents.  ..." 

*'  Accidents ! "  she  cried ;  '*  why  do  you  say  that  ?  " 

*  M  do  not  know, "  said  he ;  *  *  you  may  be  gone  before 
my  return,  and  we  may  not  meet  again  for  long.  And 
so  I  wished  you  to  know  this:  That  since  the  day  you 
gave  me  the  cigarette,  you  have  never  once,  not  once, 
been  absent  from  my  mind ;  and  if  it  will  in  any  way 
serve  you,  you  may  crumple  me  up  like  that  piece  of 
paper,  and  throw  me  on  the  fire.  I  would  love  to  die 
for  you." 

"Go!"  she  said.    "  Go  now  at  once !    My  brain  is  in 
237 


MORE   NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

a  whirl.  I  scarce  know  what  we  are  talking.  Go ;  and 
good-night;  and  oh,  may  you  come  safe!  " 

Once  back  in  his  own  room  a  fearful  joy  possessed 
the  young  man's  mind ;  and  as  he  recalled  her  face  struck 
suddenly  white  and  the  broken  utterance  of  her  last 
words,  his  heart  at  once  exulted  and  misgave  him.  Love 
had  indeed  looked  upon  him  with  a  tragic  mask;  and 
yet  what  mattered,  since  at  least  it  was  love  —  since  at 
least  she  was  commoved  at  their  division  ?  He  got  to 
bed  with  these  parti-coloured  thoughts ;  passed  from  one 
dream  to  another  all  night  long,  the  white  face  of  Teresa 
still  haunting  him,  wrung  with  unspoken  thoughts ;  and 
in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  leaped  suddenly  out  of  bed,  in 
a  kind  of  horror.  It  was  already  time  for  him  to  rise. 
He  dressed,  made  his  breakfast  on  cold  food  that  had 
been  laid  for  him  the  night  before ;  and  went  down  to 
the  room  of  his  idol  for  the  box.  The  door  was  open ; 
a  strange  disorder  reigned  within;  the  furniture  all 
pushed  aside,  and  the  center  of  the  room  left  bare  of  im- 
pediment, as  though  for  the  pacing  of  a  creature  with  a 
tortured  mind.  There  lay  the  box,  however,  and  upon 
the  lid  a  paper  with  these  words:  **  Harry,  1  hope  to  be 
back  before  you  go.     Teresa." 

He  sat  down  to  wait,  laying  his  watch  before  him  on 
the  table.  She  had  called  him  Harry :  that  should  be 
enough,  he  thought,  to  fill  the  day  with  sunshine ;  and 
yet  somehow  the  sight  of  that  disordered  room  still 
poisoned  his  enjoyment.  The  door  of  the  bedchamber 
stood  gaping  open ;  and  though  he  turned  aside  his  eyes 
as  from  a  sacrilege,  he  could  not  but  observe  the  bed 
had  not  been  slept  in.  He  was  still  pondering  what 
this  should  mean,  still  trying  to  convince  himself  that 

238 


THE   BROWN    BOX 

all  was  well,  when  the  moving  needle  of  his  watch  sum- 
moned him  to  set  forth  without  delay.  He  was  before 
all  things  a  man  of  his  word ;  ran  round  to  Southampton 
Row  to  fetch  a  cab ;  and  taking  the  box  on  the  front  seat, 
drove  off  toward  the  terminus. 

The  streets  were  scarcely  awake ;  there  was  little  to 
amuse  the  eye;  and  the  young  man's  attention  centered 
on  the  dumb  companion  of  his  drive.  A  card  was 
nailed  upon  one  side,  bearing  the  superscription :  *  *  Miss 
Doolan,  passenger  to  Dublin.  Glass.  With  care."  He 
thought  with  a  sentimental  shock  that  the  fair  idol  of  his 
heart  was  perhaps  driven  to  adopt  the  name  of  Doolan ; 
and  as  he  still  studied  the  card,  he  was  aware  of  a  deadly, 
black  depression  settling  steadily  upon  his  spirits.  It 
was  in  vain  for  him  to  contend  against  the  tide;  in  vain 
that  he  shook  himself  or  tried  to  whistle :  the  sense  of 
some  impending  blow  was  not  to  be  averted.  He  looked 
out;  in  the  long,  empty  streets,  the  cab  pursued  its  way 
without  a  trace  of  any  follower.  He  gave  ear;  and  over 
and  above  the  jolting  of  the  wheels  upon  the  road,  he 
was  conscious  of  a  certain  regular  and  quiet  sound  that 
seemed  to  issue  from  the  box.  He  put  his  ear  to  the 
cover;  at  one  moment,  he  seemed  to  perceive  a  delicate 
ticking:  the  next,  the  sound  was  gone,  nor  could  his 
closest  hearkening  recapture  it.  He  laughed  at  himself; 
but  still  the  gloom  continued ;  and  it  was  with  more 
than  the  common  relief  of  an  arrival  that  he  leaped  from 
the  cab  before  the  station. 

Probably  enough  on  purpose,  Teresa  had  named  an 
hour  some  thirty  minutes  earlier  than  needful ;  and  when 
Harry  had  given  the  box  into  the  charge  of  a  porter,  who 
set  it  on  a  truck,  he  proceeded  briskly  to  pace  the  plat- 

239 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

form.  Presently  the  bookstall  opened ;  and  the  young 
man  was  looking  at  the  books  when  he  was  seized  by 
the  arm.  He  turned,  and,  though  she  was  closely  veiled, 
at  once  recognized  the  fair  Cuban. 

*' Where  is  it  ?  "  she  asked ;  and  the  sound  of  her  voice 
surprised  him. 

*Mt.^"hesaid.     *'What?" 

**  The  box.  Have  it  put  on  a  cab  instantly.  I  am 
in  fearful  haste." 

He  hurried  to  obey,  marvelling  at  these  changes  but 
not  daring  to  trouble  her  with  questions ;  and  when  the 
cab  had  been  brought  round,  and  the  box  mounted  on 
the  front,  she  passed  a  little  way  off  upon  the  pavement 
and  beckoned  him  to  follow. 

*'Now,"  said  she,  still  in  those  mechanical  and  hushed 
tones  that  had  at  first  affected  him,  **you  must  go  on 
to  Holyhead  alone;  go  on  board  the  steamer;  and  if  you 
see  a  man  in  tartan  trousers  and  a  pink  scarf,  say  to  him 
that  all  has  been  put  off:  if  not, "  she  added,  with  a  sob- 
bing sigh,  '*it  does  not  matter.     So,  good-by." 

**  Teresa,"  said  Harry,  **get  into  your  cab,  and  I  will 
go  along  with  you.  You  are  in  some  distress,  perhaps 
some  danger;  and  till  I  know  the  whole,  not  even  you 
can  make  me  leave  you." 

*' You  will  not?"  she  asked.  *'0h,  Harry,  it  were 
better!" 

*M  will  not,"  said  Harry,  stoutly. 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  through  her  veil; 
took  his  hand  suddenly  and  sharply,  but  more  as  if  in 
fear  than  tenderness ;  and  still  holding  him,  walked  to 
the  cab-door. 

**  Where  are  we  to  drive  ?  "  asked  Harry. 
240 


THE   BROWN   BOX 

*'Home,  quickly,"  she  answered;  "double  fare!" 
And  as  soon  as  they  had  both  mounted  to  their  places, 
the  vehicle  crazily  trundled  from  the  station. 

Teresa  leaned  back  in  a  corner.  The  whole  way 
Harry  could  perceive  her  tears  to  flow  under  her  veil; 
but  she  vouchsafed  no  explanation.  At  the  door  of  the 
house  in  Queen  Square  both  alighted ;  and  the  cabman 
lowered  the  box,  which  Harry,  glad  to  display  his 
strength,  received  upon  his  shoulders. 

*'Let  the  man  take  it,"  she  whispered.  **Let  the 
man  take  it." 

"  I  will  do  no  such  thing,"  said  Harry  cheerfully;  and 
having  paid  the  fare,  he  followed  Teresa  through  the 
door  which  she  had  opened  with  her  key.  The  land- 
lady and  maid  were  gone  upon  their  morning  errands ; 
the  house  was  empty  and  still;  and  as  the  rattling  of 
the  cab  died  away  down  Gloucester  Street,  and  Harry 
continued  to  ascend  the  stair  with  his  burden,  he  heard 
close  against  his  shoulders  the  same  faint  and  muffled 
ticking  as  before.  The  lady,  still  preceding  him,  opened 
the  door  of  her  room,  and  helped  him  to  lower  the  box 
tenderly  in  the  corner  by  the  window. 

"And  now,"  said  Harry,  "what  is  wrong?" 

"  You  will  not  go  away  ?  "  she  cried,  with  a  sudden 
break  in  her  voice  and  beating  her  hands  together  in  the 
very  agony  of  impatience.  "Oh!  Harry,  Harry,  go 
away!  Oh!  go,  and  leave  me  to  the  fate  that  I  de- 
serve! " 

' '  The  fate  ?  "  repeated  Harry.     '  *  What  is  this  ?  " 

"No  fate,"  she  resumed.  "  I  do  not  know  what  I 
am  saying.  But  1  wish  to  be  alone.  You  may  come 
back  this  evening,  Harry;  come  again  when  you  like; 

241 


I 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

but  leave  me  now,  only  leave  me  now!"  And  then 
suddenly,  "I  have  an  errand,"  she  exclaimed;  ''you 
cannot  refuse  me  that." 

"No,"  replied  Harry,  "you  have  no  errand.  You 
are  in  grief  or  danger.  Lift  your  veil  and  tell  me  what 
it  is." 

"Then,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  composure,  "you 
leave  but  one  course  open  to  me. "  And  raising  the  veil, 
she  showed  him  a  countenance  from  which  every  trace 
of  colour  had  fled,  eyes  marred  with  weeping,  and  a 
brow  on  which  resolve  had  conquered  fear.  "  Harry," 
she  began,  "  I  am  not  what  I  seem." 

"  You  have  told  me  that  before,"  said  Harry,  "several 
times." 

"Oh!  Harry,  Harry,"  she  cried,  "how  you  shame 
me!  But  this  is  the  God's  truth.  1  am  a  dangerous 
and  wicked  girl.  My  name  is  Clara  Luxmore.  I  was 
never  nearer  Cuba  than  Penzance.  From  first  to  last  I 
have  cheated  and  played  with  you.  And  what  I  am  I 
dare  not  even  name  to  you  in  words.  Indeed,  until 
to-day,  until  the  sleepless  watches  of  last  night,  I  never 
grasped  the  depth  and  foulness  of  my  guilt." 

The  young  man  looked  upon  her  aghast.  Then  a 
generous  current  poured  along  his  veins.  "  That  is  all 
one,"  he  said.  "If  you  be  all  you  say,  you  have  the 
greater  need  of  me." 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  exclaimed,  "that  I  have  schemed 
in  vain  ?  And  will  nothing  drive  you  from  this  house 
of  death  ?  " 

"Of  death?"  he  echoed. 

' '  Death ! "  she  cried ;  * '  death !  In  that  box  that  you 
have  dragged  about  London  and  carried  on  your  defence- 

242 


THE   BROWN    BOX 

less  shoulders,  sleep,  at  the  trigger's  mercy,  the  destroy- 
ing energies  of  dynamite." 

"  My  God!  "  cried  Harry. 

"Ah!"  she  continued  wildly,  **will  you  flee  now.^ 
At  any  moment  you  may  hear  the  click  that  sounds  the 
ruin  of  this  building.  I  was  sure  M'Guire  was  wrong; 
this  morning,  before  day,  I  flew  to  Zero ;  he  confirmed 
my  fears ;  I  beheld  you,  my  beloved  Harry,  fall  a  victim 
to  my  own  contrivances.  I  knew  then  I  loved  you  — 
Harry,  will  you  go  now  ?  Will  you  not  spare  me  this 
unwilling  crime  ?  " 

Harry  remained  speechless,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
box :  at  last  he  turned  to  her. 

"Is  it,"  he  asked  hoarsely,  "an  infernal  machine.^" 

Her  lips  formed  the  word  "yes;"  which  her  voice 
refused  to  utter. 

With  fearful  curiosity,  he  drew  near  and  bent  above 
the  box :  in  that  still  chamber,  the  ticking  was  distinctly 
audible;  and  at  the  measured  sound,  the  blood  flowed 
back  upon  his  heart. 

"  For  whom  ?  "  he  asked. 

"What  matters  it?"  she  cried,  seizing  him  by  the 
arm.  "  If  you  may  still  be  saved,  what  matters  ques- 
tions ?  " 

"God  in  heaven !  "  cried  Harry.  "  And  the  children's 
hospital!  At  whatever  cost,  this  damned  contrivance 
must  be  stopped !  " 

"  It  cannot,"  she  gasped.  "  The  power  of  man  can- 
not avert  the  blow.  But  you,  Harry  —  you,  my  be- 
loved—  you  may  still " 

And  then  from  the  box  that  lay  so  quietly  in  the  cor- 
ner, a  sudden  catch  was  audible,  like  the  catch  of  a 

243 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

dock  before  it  strikes  the  hour.  For  one  second,  the 
two  stared  at  each  other  with  lifted  brows  and  stony 
eyes.  Then  Harry,  throwing  one  arm  over  his  face, 
with  the  other  clutched  the  girl  to  his  breast  and  stag- 
gered against  the  wall. 

A  dull  and  startling  thud  resounded  through  the 
room;  their  eyes  blinked  against  the  coming  horror; 
and  still  clinging  together  like  drowning  people,  they 
fell  to  the  floor.  Then  followed  a  prolonged  and  strident 
hissing  as  from  the  indignant  pit ;  an  offensive  stench 
seized  them  by  the  throat;  the  room  was  filled  with 
dense  and  choking  fumes. 

Presently  these  began  a  little  to  disperse ;  and  when 
at  length  they  drew  themselves,  all  limp  and  shaken,  to 
a  sitting  posture,  the  first  object  that  greeted  their  vision 
was  the  box  reposing  uninjured  in  its  corner,  but  still 
leaking  little  wreaths  of  vapour  round  the  lid. 

'  *  Oh,  poor  Zero !  "  cried  the  girl  with  a  strange  sob- 
bing laugh.  '*AIas,  poor  Zero!  This  will  break  his 
heart!" 


244 


THE    SUPERFLUOUS    MANSION 
(Concluded) 

Somerset  ran  straight  up  stairs;  the  door  of  the 
drawing-room,  contrary  to  all  custom,  was  un- 
locked; and  bursting  in,  the  young  man  found  Zero 
seated  on  a  sofa  in  an  attitude  of  singular  dejection. 
Close  beside  him  stood  an  untasted  grog,  the  mark  of 
strong  preoccupation.  The  room  besides  was  in  con- 
fusion ;  boxes  had  been  tumbled  to  and  fro ;  the  floor 
was  strewn  with  keys  and  other  implements;  and  in 
the  midst  of  this  disorder,  lay  a  lady's  glove. 

**  1  have  come,"  cried  Somerset,  **  to  make  an  end  of 
this.  Either  you  will  instantly  abandon  all  your 
schemes,  or  (cost  what  it  may)  I  will  denounce  you  to 
the  police." 

*'  Ah !  "  replied  Zero,  slowly  shaking  his  head.  **  You 
are  too  late,  dear  fellow!  I  am  already  at  the  end  of  all 
my  hopes  and  fallen  to  be  a  laughing-stock  and  mock- 
ery. My  reading, "  he  added,  with  a  gentle  despondency 
of  manner,  "has  not  been  much  among  romances;  yet 
1  recall  from  one  a  phrase  that  depicts  my  present  state 
with  critical  exactitude;  and  you  behold  me  sitting 
here  'like  a  burst  drum.'  " 

"What  has  befallen  you .?"  cried  Somerset. 

"  My  last  batch,"  returned  the  plotter,  wearily,  "like 
all  the  others,  is  a  hollow  mockery  and  a  fraud.     In 

245 


MORE   NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

vain  do  I  combine  the  elements;  in  vain  adjust  the 
springs ;  and  I  have  now  arrived  at  such  a  pitch  of  dis- 
consideration  that  (except  yourself,  dear  fellow)  1  do  not 
know  a  soul  that  I  can  face.  My  subordinates  them- 
selves have  turned  upon  me.  What  language  have 
I  heard  to-day,  what  illiberality  of  sentiment,  what 
pungency  of  expression !  She  came  once ;  I  could  have 
pardoned  that,  for  she  was  moved;  but  she  returned, 
returned  to  announce  to  me  this  crushing  blow ;  and, 
Somerset,  she  was  very  inhumane.  Yes,  dear  fellow,  I 
have  drunk  a  bitter  cup ;  the  speech  of  females  is  re- 
markable for  .  .  .  well,  well!  Denounce  me,  if 
you  will,  you  but  denounce  the  dead.  1  am  extinct.  It 
is  strange  how,  at  this  supreme  crisis  of  my  life,  I  should 
be  haunted  by  quotations  from  works  of  an  inexact  and 
even  fanciful  description;  but  here,"  he  added,  "is  an- 
other: 'Othello's  occupation's  gone.'  Yes,  dear  Som- 
erset, it  is  gone ;  I  am  no  more  a  dynamiter ;  and  how,  I 
ask  you,  after  having  tasted  of  these  joys,  am  I  to  con- 
descend to  a  less  glorious  life  ?  " 

*'I  cannot  describe  how  you  relieve  me,"  returned 
Somerset,  sitting  down  on  one  of  the  several  boxes  that 
had  been  drawn  out  into  the  middle  of  the  floor.  *M 
had  conceived  a  sort  of  maudlin  toleration  for  your 
character ;  I  have  a  great  distaste,  besides,  for  anything 
in  the  nature  of  a  duty ;  and  upon  both  grounds,  your 
news  delights  me.  But  I  seem  to  perceive,"  he  added, 
"  a  certain  sound  of  ticking  in  this  box." 

*' Yes, "replied  Zero,  with  the  same  slow  weariness 
of  manner,  "I  have  set  several  of  them  going." 

''My  God!"  cried  Somerset,  bounding  to  his  feet 

"Machines.^" 

246 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

''Machines!"  returned  the  plotter,  bitterly.  ''Ma- 
chines indeed !  I  blush  to  be  their  author.  Alas ! "  he  said, 
burying  his  face  in  his  hands, ' '  that  I  should  live  to  say  it ! " 

"  Madman! "  cried  Somerset,  shaking  him  by  the  arm. 
"What  am  I  to  understand.^  Have  you,  indeed,  set 
these  diabolical  contrivances  in  motion,  and  do  we  stay 
here  to  be  blown  up  ?  " 

"  '  Hoist  with  his  own  petard '  ?"  returned  the  plot- 
ter musingly.  "One  more  quotation:  strange!  But 
indeed  my  brain  is  struck  with  numbness.  Yes,  dear 
boy,  I  have,  as  you  say,  put  my  contrivance  in  motion. 
The  one  on  which  you  are  sitting,  I  have  timed  for 
half  an  hour.     Yon  other " 

"Half  an  hour!"  echoed  Somerset,  dancing  with 
trepidation.     "Merciful  heavens,  in  half  an  hour!" 

"Dear  fellow,  why  so  much  excitement.^"  inquired 
Zero.  "  My  dynamite  is  not  more  dangerous  than  toffy ; 
had  I  an  only  child  I  would  give  it  him  to  play  with. 
You  see  this  brick  ?  "  he  continued,  lifting  a  cake  of  the 
infernal  compound  from  the  laboratory  table;  "  at  a 
touch  it  should  explode,  and  that  with  such  unconquer- 
able energy  as  should  bestrew  the  square  with  ruins. 
Well,  now,  behold!     I  dash  it  on  the  floor." 

Somerset  sprang  forward,  and  with  the  strength  of 
the  very  ecstasy  of  terror,  wrested  the  brick  from  his 
possession.  "Heavens!"  he  cried,  wiping  his  brow, 
and  then  with  more  care  than  ever  mother  handled  her 
firstborn  withal,  gingerly  transported  the  explosive  to 
the  far  end  of  the  apartment,  the  plotter,  his  arms  once 
more  fallen  to  his  side,  dispiritedly  watching  him. 

"  It  was  entirely  harmless,"  he  sighed.  "They  de- 
scribe it  as  burning  like  tobacco. " 

247 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

"In  the  name  of  fortune,"  cried  Somerset,  "what 
have  I  done  to  you,  or  what  have  you  done  to  yourself, 
that  you  should  persist  in  this  insane  behaviour  ?  If  not 
for  your  own  sake,  then  for  mine,  let  us  depart  from  this 
doomed  house,  where  I  profess  I  have  not  the  heart  to 
leave  you;  and  then,  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  and  if 
your  determination  be  sincere,  you  will  instantly  quit 
this  city,  where  no  further  occupation  can  detain  you." 

"Such,  dear  fellow,  was  my  own  design,"  replied  the 
plotter.  * '  I  have,  as  you  observe,  no  further  business 
here,  and  once  I  have  packed  a  little  bag  I  shall  ask  you 
to  share  a  frugal  meal,  to  go  with  me  as  far  as  to  the  sta- 
tion and  see  the  last  of  a  broken-hearted  man.  And 
yet,"  he  added,  looking  on  the  boxes  with  a  lingering 
regret,  "I  should  have  liked  to  make  quite  certain.  I 
cannot  but  suspect  my  underlings  of  some  mismanage- 
ment ;  it  may  be  fond,  but  yet  I  cherish  that  idea :  it 
may  be  the  weakness  of  a  man  of  science,  but  yet,"  he 
cried,  rising  into  some  energy,  "I  will  never,  I  cannot 
if  1  try,  believe  that  my  poor  dynamite  has  had  fair 
usage!" 

"Five  minutes !  "  said  Somerset,  glancing  with  horror 
at  the  timepiece.  '  *  If  you  do  not  instantly  buckle  to  your 
bag,  I  leave  you." 

"A  few  necessaries,"  returned  Zero,  "only  a  few 
necessaries,  dear  Somerset,  and  you  behold  me  ready." 

He  passed  into  the  bedroom,  and  after  an  interval 
which  seemed  to  draw  out  into  eternity  for  his  unfor- 
tunate companion,  he  returned,  bearing  in  his  hand  an 
open  Gladstone  bag.  His  movements  were  still  horribly 
deliberate,  and  his  eyes  lingered  gloatingly  on  his  dear 
boxes,  as  he  moved  to  and  fro  about  the  drawing-room, 

248 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

gathering  a  few  small  trifles.  Last  of  all,  he  lifted  one 
of  the  squares  of  dynamite. 

**Put  that  down!"  cried  Somerset.  "If  what  you 
say  be  true,  you  have  no  call  to  load  yourself  with  that 
ungodly  contraband." 

"  Merely  a  curiosity,  dear  boy,"  he  said  persuasively, 
and  slipped  the  brick  into  his  bag;  **  merely  a  memento 
of  the  past  —  ah,  happy  past,  bright  past!  You  will 
not  take  a  touch  of  spirits  .^^  no  ?  I  find  you  very  abste- 
mious. Well,"  he  added,  "if  you  have  really  no  curi- 
osity to  await  the  event " 

"  1 !  "  cried  Somerset.    *  *  My  blood  boils  to  get  away. " 

"Well,  then,"  said  Zero,  "  I  am  ready;  I  would  I 
could  say,  willing;  but  thus  to  leave  the  scene  of  my 
sublime  endeavours " 

Without  further  parley,  Somerset  seized  him  by  the 
arm,  and  dragged  him  down  stairs;  the  hall-door  shut 
with  a  clang  on  the  deserted  mansion ;  and  still  towing 
his  laggardly  companion,  the  young  man  sped  across 
the  square  in  the  Oxford  Street  direction.  They  had 
not  yet  passed  the  corner  of  the  garden,  when  they 
were  arrested  by  a  dull  thud  of  an  extraordinary  ampli- 
tude of  sound,  accompanied  and  followed  by  a  shatter- 
ing fracas.  Somerset  turned  in  time  to  see  the  mansion 
rend  in  twain,  vomit  forth  flames  and  smoke,  and  in- 
stantly collapse  into  its  cellars.  At  the  same  moment, 
he  was  thrown  violently  to  the  ground.  His  first  glance 
was  towards  Zero.  The  plotter  had  but  reeled  against 
the  garden  rail ;  he  stood  there,  the  Gladstone  bag 
clasped  tight  upon  his  heart,  his  whole  face  radiant  with 
relief  and  gratitude;  and  the  young  man  heard  him 
murmur  to  himself:  "  Nunc  dimittis,  nunc  dimittis!  " 

249 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

The  consternation  of  the  populace  was  indescribable; 
the  whole  of  Golden  Square  was  alive  with  men,  wo^ 
men  and  children,  running  wildly  to  and  fro,  and  like 
rabbits  in  a  warren,  dashing  in  and  out  of  the  house 
doors.  And  under  favour  of  this  confusion,  Somerset 
dragged  away  the  lingering  plotter. 

*Mt  was  grand,"  he  continued  to  murmur:  "it  was 
indescribably  grand.  Ah,  green  Erin,  green  Erin,  what 
a  day  of  glory !  and  oh,  my  calumniated  dynamite,  how 
triumphantly  hast  thou  prevailed! " 

Suddenly  a  shade  crossed  his  face;  and  pausing  in  the 
middle  of  the  footway,  he  consulted  the  dial  of  his 
watch. 

''Good  God!"  he  cried,  ''how  mortifying!  seven 
minutes  too  early !  The  dynamite  surpassed  my  hopes ; 
but  the  clockwork,  fickle  clockwork,  has  once  more  be- 
trayed me.  Alas,  can  there  be  no  success  unmixed 
with  failure?  and  must  even  this  red-letter-day  be 
checkered  by  a  shadow  ?  " 

"Incomparable  ass!"  said  Somerset,  "what  have 
you  done  ?  Blown  up  the  house  of  an  unoffending  old 
lady,  and  the  whole  property  of  the  only  person  who  is 
fool  enough  to  befriend  you!  " 

"  You  do  not  understand  these  matters,"  replied  Zero, 
with  an  air  of  great  dignity.  "  This  will  shake  England 
to  the  heart.  Gladstone,  the  truculent  old  man,  will 
quail  before  the  pointing  finger  of  revenge.  And  now 
that  my  dynamite  is  proved  effective " 

"Heavens,  you  remind  me!"  ejaculated  Somerset. 
"That  brick  in  your  bag  must  be  instantly  disposed  of. 
But  how  ?    If  we  could  throw  it  in  the  river " 

"A  torpedo,"  cried  Zero,  brightening,  "a  torpedo  in 
250 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION 

the  Thames !  Superb,  dear  fellow !  I  recognise  in  you 
the  marks  of  an  accomplished  anarch." 

*  *  True ! "  returned  Somerset.  *  *  It  cannot  so  be  done ; 
and  there  is  no  help  but  you  must  carry  it  away  with 
you.  Come  on,  then,  and  let  me  at  once  consign  you 
to  a  train." 

'*Nay,  nay,  dear  boy,"  protested  Zero.  "There  is 
now  no  call  for  me  to  leave.  My  character  is  now  re- 
instated; my  fame  brightens;  this  is  the  best  thing  I 
have  done  yet;  and  I  see  from  here  the  ovations  that 
await  the  author  of  the  Golden  Square  Atrocity." 

'*My  young  friend,"  returned  the  other,  ''  I  give  you 
your  choice.  I  will  either  see  you  safe  on  board  a  train 
or  safe  in  gaol." 

"Somerset,  this  is  unlike  you!"  said  the  chymist. 
"You  surprise  me,  Somerset." 

"I  shall  considerably  more  surprise  you  at  the  next 
police  office,"  returned  Somerset,  with  something  bor- 
dering on  rage.  "  For  on  one  point  my  mind  is  settled : 
either  I  see  you  packed  off  to  America,  brick  and  all,  or 
else  you  dine  in  prison." 

"You  have  perhaps  neglected  one  point,"  returned 
the  unoffended  Zero:  "for,  speaking  as  a  philosopher, 
1  fail  to  see  what  means  you  can  employ  to  force  me. 
They  will,  my  dear  fellow " 

"Now,  see  here,"  interrupted  Somerset.  "You  are 
ignorant  of  anything  but  science,  which  I  can  never  re- 
gard as  being  truly  knowledge ;  I,  sir,  have  studied  life ; 
and  allow  me  to  inform  you  that  I  have  but  to  raise 
my  hand  and  voice  —  here  in  this  street  —  and  the 
mob  —  " 

"Good  God  in  heaven,  Somerset! "  cried  Zero,  turn- 

251 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

ing  deadly  white  and  stopping  in  his  walk,  **  great  God 
in  heaven,  what  words  are  these!  Oh,  not  in  jest,  not 
even  in  jest,  should  they  be  used!  The  brutal  mob,  the 
savage  passions  ....  Somerset,  for  God's  sake,  a 
public-house!" 

Somerset  considered  him  with  freshly  awakened  curi- 
osity. ''This  is  very  interesting,"  said  he.  **You  re- 
coil from  such  a  death  ?" 

*'Who  would  not?"  asked  the  plotter. 

''And  to  be  blown  up  by  dynamite,"  inquired  the 
young  man,  "doubtless  strikes  you  as  a  form  of  eu- 
thanasia ?  " 

"Pardon  me,"  returned  Zero:  "I  own,  and  since  I 
have  braved  it  daily  in  my  professional  career,  I  own  it 
even  with  pride:  it  is  a  death  unusually  distasteful  to 
the  mind  of  man." 

"One  more  question,"  said  Somerset:  "you  object 
to  Lynch  Law  ?  why  ?  " 

"  It  is  assassination, "  said  the  plotter  calmly ;  but  with 
eyebrows  a  little  lifted,  as  in  wonder  at  the  question. 

"Shake  hands  with  me,"  cried  Somerset.  "Thank 
God,  I  have  now  no  ill-feeling  left;  and  though  you  can- 
not conceive  how  I  burn  to  see  you  on  the  gallows,  I 
can  quite  contentedly  assist  at  your  departure." 

"  I  do  not  very  clearly  take  your  meaning,"  said  Zero, 
"but  I  am  sure  you  mean  kindly.  As  to  my  departure, 
there  is  another  point  to  be  considered.  I  have  neglected 
to  supply  myself  with  funds ;  my  little  all  has  perished 
in  what  history  will  love  to  relate  under  the  name  of  the 
Golden  Square  Atrocity ;  and  without  what  is  coarsely 
if  vigorously  called  stamps,  you  must  be  well  aware  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  pass  the  ocean." 

252 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS   MANSION 

*'  For  me,"  said  Somerset,  **you  have  now  ceased  to 
be  a  man.  You  have  no  more  claim  upon  me  than  a 
door  scraper;  but  the  touching  confusion  of  your  mind 
disarms  me  from  extremities.  Until  to-day,  I  always 
thought  stupidity  was  funny ;  I  now  know  otherwise ; 
and  when  I  look  upon  your  idiot  face,  laughter  rises 
within  me  like  a  deadly  sickness,  and  the  tears  spring  up 
into  my  eyes  as  bitter  as  blood.  What  should  this  por- 
tend ?  I  begin  to  doubt;  I  am  losing  faith  in  scepticism. 
Is  it  possible,"  he  cried,  in  a  kind  of  horror  of  himself — 
**is  it  conceivable  that  I  believe  in  right  and  wrong.? 
Already  I  have  found  myself,  with  incredulous  surprise, 
to  be  the  victim  of  a  prejudice  of  personal  honour.  And 
must  this  change  proceed  ?  Have  you  robbed  me  of  my 
youth  ?  Must  1  fall,  at  my  time  of  life,  into  the  Common 
Banker  ?  But  why  should  I  address  that  head  of  wood  ? 
Let  this  suffice.  I  dare  not  let  you  stay  among  women 
and  children;  I  lack  the  courage  to  denounce  you,  if  by 
any  means  I  may  avoid  it;  you  have  no  money:  well 
then,  take  mine,  and  go;  and  if  ever  I  behold  your  face 
after  to-day,  that  day  will  be  your  last. " 

** Under  the  circumstances,"  replied  Zero,  "I scarce 
see  my  way  to  refuse  your  offer.  Your  expressions 
may  pain,  they  cannot  surprise  me;  I  am  aware  our 
point  of  view  requires  a  little  training,  a  little  moral 
hygiene,  if  I  may  so  express  it;  and  one  of  the  points  that 
has  always  charmed  me  in  your  character,  is  this  de- 
lightful frankness.  As  for  the  small  advance,  it  shall  be 
remitted  you  from  Philadelphia." 

**  It  shall  not,"  said  Somerset. 

*'  Dear  fellow,  you  do  not  understand,"  returned  the 
plotter.     **  I  shall  now  be  received  with  fresh  confidence 

253 


MORE   NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

by  my  superiors;  and  my  experiments  will  be  no  longer 
hampered  by  pitiful  conditions  of  the  purse." 

**What  I  am  now  about,  sir,  is  a  crime,"  replied 
Somerset;  **and  were  you  to  roll  in  wealth  like  Van- 
derbilt,  I  should  scorn  to  be  reimbursed  of  money  I  had 
so  scandalously  misapplied.  Take  it,  and  keep  it.  By 
George,  sir,  three  days  of  you  have  transformed  me  to 
an  ancient  Roman." 

With  these  words,  Somerset  hailed  a  passing  han- 
som ;  and  the  pair  were  driven  rapidly  to  the  railway 
terminus.  There,  an  oath  having  been  exacted,  the 
money  changed  hands. 

**And  now,"  said  Somerset,  'M  have  bought  back 
my  honour  with  every  penny  I  possess.  And  I  thank 
God,  though  there  is  nothing  before  me  but  starvation,  I 
am  free  from  all  entanglement  with  Mr.  Zero  Pumper- 
nickel Jones." 

**  To  starve!  "  cried  Zero.  "  Dear  fellow,  I  cannot  en- 
dure the  thought." 

"Take  your  ticket!"  returned  Somerset. 

"  I  think  you  display  temper,"  said  Zero. 

"Take  your  ticket,"  reiterated  the  young  man. 

"Well,"  said  the  plotter,  as  he  returned,  ticket  in 
hand,  "  your  attitude  is  so  strange  and  painful,  that  I 
scarce  know  if  I  should  ask  you  to  shake  hands." 

"As  a  man,  no,"  replied  Somerset;  "but  I  have  no 
objection  to  shake  hands  with  you,  as  I  might  with  a 
pump- well  that  ran  poison  or  hell-fire." 

"This  is  a  very  cold  parting,"  sighed  the  dynamiter; 
and  still  followed  by  Somerset,  he  began  to  descend  the 
platform.  This  was  now  bustling  with  passengers; 
the  train  for  Liverpool  was  just  about  to  start,  another 

254 


THE  SUPERFLUOUS  MANSION 

had  but  recently  arrived;  and  the  double  tide  made 
movement  difficult.  As  the  pair  reached  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  bookstall,  however,  they  came  into  an  open 
space;  and  here  the  attention  of  the  plotter  was  at- 
tracted by  a  Standard  broadside  bearing  the  words: 
''Second  Edition:  Explosion  in  Golden  Square."  His 
eye  lighted;  groping  in  his  pocket  for  the  necessary 
coin,  he  sprang  forward  —  his  bag  knocked  sharply  on 
the  corner  of  the  stall  —  and  instantly,  with  a  formida- 
ble report,  the  dynamite  exploded.  When  the  smoke 
cleared  away  the  stall  was  seen  much  shattered,  and  the 
stall-keeper  running  forth  in  terror  from  the  ruins ;  but 
of  the  Irish  patriot  or  the  Gladstone  bag  no  adequate  re- 
mains were  to  be  found. 

In  the  first  scramble  of  the  alarm,  Somerset  made  good 
his  escape,  and  came  out  upon  the  Euston  Road,  his  head 
spinning,  his  body  sick  with  hunger,  and  his  pockets 
destitute  of  coin.  Yet  as  he  continued  to  walk  the  pave- 
ments, he  wondered  to  find  in  his  heart  a  sort  of  peaceful 
exultation,  a  great  content,  a  sense,  as  it  were,  of  divine 
presence  and  the  kindliness  of  fate;  and  he  was  able  to 
tell  himself  that  even  if  the  worst  befell,  he  could  now 
starve  with  a  certain  comfort  since  Zero  was  expunged. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  he  found  himself  at  the  door  of 
Mr.  Godall's  shop;  and  being  quite  unmanned  by  his 
long  fast,  and  scarce  considering  what  he  did,  he  opened 
the  glass  door  and  entered. 

"Ha!"  said  Mr.  Godall,  "Mr.  Somerset!  Well, 
have  you  met  with  an  adventure.^  Have  you  the 
promised  story  .?  Sit  down,  if  you  please ;  suffer  me  to 
choose  you  a  cigar  of  my  own  special  brand,  and  reward 
me  with  a  narrative  in  your  best  style." 

255 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

"I  must  not  take  a  cigar,"  said  Somerset 
"Indeed!"  said  Mr.  Godall.     **  But  now  I  come  to 
look   at   you   more    closely,  I  perceive  that  you  are 
changed.      My   poor  boy,    !   hope  there  is   nothing 
wrong  ?  " 
Somerset  burst  into  tears. 


256 


EPILOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR  DIVAN 

On  a  certain  day  of  lashing  rain  in  the  December  of 
last  year,  and  between  the  hours  of  nine  and  ten  in  the 
morning,  Mr.  Edward  Challoner  pioneered  himself  un- 
der an  umbrella  to  the  door  of  the  Cigar  Divan  in 
Rupert  Street.  It  was  a  place  he  had  visited  but  once 
before :  the  memory  of  what  had  followed  on  that  visit 
and  the  fear  of  Somerset,  having  prevented  his  return. 
Even  now,  he  looked  in  before  he  entered ;  but  the  shop 
was  free  of  customers. 

The  young  man  behind  the  counter  was  so  intently 
writing  in  a  penny-version  book,  that  he  paid  no  heed 
to  Challoner's  arrival.  On  a  second  glance,  it  seemed 
to  the  latter  that  he  recognised  him. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  thought,  "  unquestionably  Somerset! " 

And  though  this  was  the  very  man  he  had  been  so 
sedulously  careful  to  avoid,  his  unexplained  position  at 
the  receipt  of  custom  changed  distaste  to  curiosity. 

** '  Or  opulent  rotunda  strike  the  sky,'  "  said  the  shop- 
man to  himself,  in  the  tone  of  one  considering  a  verse. 
"I  suppose  it  would  be  too  much  to  say  *orotunda,' 
and  yet  how  noble  it  were  !  'Or  opulent  orotunda 
strike  the  sky.*  But  that  is  the  bitterness  of  arts  j  you 
see  a  good  effect,  and  some  nonsense  about  sense  con- 
tinually intervenes." 

257 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

*'  Somerset,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Challoner,  **  is  this 
a  masquerade  ?  " 

"What  ?  Challoner!  "  cried  the  shopman.  "  I  am 
delighted  to  see  you.  One  moment,  till  I  finish  the  oc- 
tave of  my  sonnet :  only  the  octave. "  And  with  a  friendly 
waggle  of  the  hand,  he  once  more  buried  himself  in  the 
commerce  of  the  Muses.  "I  say,"  he  said  presently, 
looking  up,  ''you seem  in  wonderful  preservation:  how 
about  the  hundred  pounds  ?  " 

"I  have  made  a  small  inheritance  from  a  great-aunt 
in  Wales,"  replied  Challoner  modestly. 

"  Ah,"  said  Somerset,  "  I  very  much  doubt  the  legit- 
imacy of  inheritance.  The  State,  in  my  view,  should 
collar  it.  I  am  now  going  through  a  stage  of  socialism 
and  poetry,"  he  added  apologetically,  as  one  who  spoke 
of  a  course  of  medicinal  waters. 

"And  are  you  really  the  person  of  the  —  establish- 
ment ? "  inquired  Challoner,  deftly  evading  the  word 
"shop." 

"A  vendor,  sir,  a  vendor,"  returned  the  other,  pock- 
eting his  poesy.  "I  help  old  Happy  and  Glorious. 
Can  I  offer  you  a  weed  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  scarcely  like  .  .  .  "  began  Challoner. 

"Nonsense,  my  dear  fellow,"  cried  the  shopman. 
"  We  are  very  proud  of  the  business;  and  the  old  man, 
let  me  inform  you,  besides  being  the  most  egregious  of 
created  beings  from  the  point  of  view  of  ethics,  is  liter- 
ally sprung  from  the  loins  of  kings.  ''  De  Godall  je 
suis  le  fervent. '  There  is  only  one  Godall. —  By  the 
way,"  he  added,  as  Challoner  lit  his  cigar,  "how  did 
you  get  on  with  the  detective  trade  .^" 

"I  did  not  try,"  said  Challoner  curtly. 
258 


EPILOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR  DIVAN 

**  Ah,  well,  I  did,"  returned  Somerset,  **  and  made  the 
most  incomparable  mess  of  it :  lost  all  my  money  and 
fairly  covered  myself  with  odium  and  ridicule.  There 
is  more  in  that  business,  Challoner,  than  meets  the  eye ; 
there  is  more,  in  fact,  in  all  businesses.  You  must  be- 
lieve in  them,  or  get  up  the  belief  that  you  believe. 
Hence,"  he  added,  "the  recognised  inferiority  of  the 
plumber,  for  no  one  could  believe  in  plumbing." 

''  A  propos/'  asked  Challoner,  "  do  you  still  paint  ?  " 

"  Not  now,"  replied  Paul;  ''but  1  think  of  taking  up 
the  violin." 

Challoner's  eye,  which  had  been  somewhat  restless 
since  the  trade  of  the  detective  had  been  named,  now 
rested  for  a  moment  on  the  columns  of  the  morning 
paper,  where  it  lay  spread  upon  the  counter. 

"  By  Jove,"  he  cried,  ''that's  odd!  " 

"  What  is  odd  ?"  asked  Paul. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  returned  the  other:  "only  1  once 
met  a  person  called  M'Guire." 

"So  did  I!"  cried  Somerset.  "Is  there  anything 
about  him.?" 

Challoner  read  as  follows :  ' '  Mysterious  death  in  Step- 
ney. An  inquest  was  held  yesterday  on  the  body  of 
Patrick  M'Guire,  described  as  a  carpenter.  Doctor  Cov- 
ering stated  that  he  had  for  some  time  treated  the  de- 
ceased as  a  dispensary  patient,  for  sleeplessness,  loss  of 
appetite  and  nervous  depression.  There  was  no  cause 
of  death  to  be  found.  He  would  say  the  deceased  had 
sunk.  Deceased  was  not  a  temperate  man,  which 
doubtless  accelerated  death.  Deceased  complained  of 
dumb  ague,  but  witness  had  never  been  able  to  detect 
any  positive  disease.     He  did  not  know  that  he  had  any 

259 


MORE  NEW  ARABIAN  NIGHTS 

family.  He  regarded  him  as  a  person  of  unsound  intel- 
lect, who  believed  himself  a  member  and  the  victim  of 
some  secret  society.  If  he  were  to  hazard  an  opinion, 
he  would  say  deceased  had  died  of  fear." 

"And  the  doctor  would  be  right,"  cried  Somerset; 
"  and  my  dear  Challoner,  I  am  so  relieved  to  hear  of  his 

demise,  that  I  will Well,  after  all,"  he  added,  "  poor 

devil,  he  was  well  served." 

The  door  at  this  moment  opened,  and  Desborough  ap- 
peared upon  the  threshold.  He  was  wrapped  in  a  long 
waterproof,  imperfectly  supplied  with  buttons ;  his  boots 
were  full  of  water,  his  hat  greasy  with  service ;  and  yet 
he  wore  the  air  of  one  exceedingly  well  content  with 
life.  He  was  hailed  by  the  two  others  with  exclama- 
tions of  surprise  and  welcome. 

"And  did  you  try  the  detective  business  ? "  inquired 
Paul. 

"  No,"  returned  Harry.  "  Oh  yes,  by  the  way,  I  did 
though ;  twice,  and  got  caught  out  both  times.  But  I 
thought  I  should  find  my — my  wife  here!  "  he  added, 
with  a  kind  of  proud  confusion. 

"  What!   are  you  married  ? "  cried  Somerset. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Harry,  "quite  a  long  time:  a  month 
at  least." 

"  Money  ?"  asked  Challoner. 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  Desborough  admitted. 
"We  are  deadly  hard  up.  But  the  Pri  —  Mr.  Godall 
is  going  to  do  something  for  us.  That  is  what  brings 
us  here." 

"Who  was  Mrs.  Desborough?"  said  Challoner,  in 
the  tone  of  a  man  of  society. 

"She  was  a  Miss  Luxmore,"  returned  Harry.  "  You 
^       260 


EPILOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR   DIVAN 

fellows  will  be  sure  to  like  her,  for  she  is  much  cleverer 
than  1.  She  tells  wonderful  stories,  too ;  better  than  a 
book." 

And  just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Desborough 
entered.  Somerset  cried  out  aloud  to  recognise  the 
young  lady  of  the  Superfluous  Mansion,  and  Challoner 
fell  back  a  step  and  dropped  his  cigar  as  he  beheld  the 
sorceress  of  Chelsea. 

"What!"  cried  Harry,  **do  you  both  know  my 
wife  ?  " 

**1  believe  I  have  seen  her,"  said  Somerset,  a  little 
wildly. 

"I  think  I  have  met  the  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Des- 
borough, sweetly ;  "but  I  cannot  imagine  where  it  was." 

"Oh  no,"  cried  Somerset  fervently:  "1  have  no  no- 
tion—  I  cannot  conceive  —  where  it  could  have  been. 
Indeed,"  he  continued,  growing  in  emphasis,  "I  think 
it  highly  probable  that  it's  a  mistake." 

"And  you,  Challoner.^"  asked  Harry,  "you  seemed 
to  recognise  her,  too." 

"These  are  both  friends  of  yours,  Harry?"  said  the 
lady.  "Delighted,  I  am  sure.  I  do  not  remember  to 
have  met  Mr.  Challoner." 

Challoner  was  very  red  in  the  face,  perhaps  from  hav- 
ing groped  after  his  cigar.  "  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
had  the  pleasure,"  he  responded  huskily. 

"Well,  and  Mr.  Godall  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Desborough. 

"Are  you  the  lady  that  has  an  appointment  with 
old  .  .  .  ."  began  Somerset,  and  paused  blushing. 
"  Because  if  so,"  he  resumed,  "  I  was  to  announce  you 
at  once." 

And  the  shopman  raised  a  curtain,  opened  the  door, 
261 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

and  passed  into  a  small  pavilion  which  had  been  added 
to  the  back  of  the  house.  On  the  roof,  the  rain  re- 
sounded musically.  The  walls  were  lined  with  maps 
and  prints  and  a  few  works  of  reference.  Upon  a  table 
was  a  large-scale  map  of  Egypt  and  the  Soudan,  and 
another  of  Tonkin,  on  which,  by  the  aid  of  coloured 
pins,  the  progress  of  the  different  wars  was  being  fol- 
lowed day  by  day.  A  light,  refreshing  odour  of  the  most 
delicate  tobacco  hung  upon  the  air;  and  a  fire,  not  of 
foul  coal,  but  of  clear-flaming  resinous  billets,  chattered 
upon  silver  dogs.  In  this  elegant  and  plain  apartment, 
Mr.  Godall  sat  in  a  morning  muse,  placidly  gazing  at  the 
fire  and  hearkening  to  the  rain  upon  the  roof. 

''Ha,  my  dear  Mr.  Somerset,"  said  he,  "and  have 
you  since  last  night  adopted  any  fresh  political  prin- 
ciple?" 

''The  lady,  sir,"  said  Somerset,  with  another  blush. 

"You  have  seen  her,  I  believe?"  returned  Mr.  God- 
all  ;  and  on  Somerset's  replying  in  the  affirmative :  "  You 
will  excuse  me,  my  dear  sir,"  he  resumed,  "if  I  offer 
you  a  hint.  I  think  it  not  improbable  this  lady  may  de- 
sire entirely  to  forget  the  past.  From  one  gentleman  to 
another,  no  more  words  are  necessary." 

A  moment  after,  he  had  received  Mrs.  Desborough 
with  that  grave  and  touching  urbanity  that  so  well  be- 
came him. 

"I  am  pleased,  madam,  to  welcome  you  to  my  poor 
house,"  he  said;  "and  shall  be  still  more  so,  if  what 
were  else  a  barren  courtesy  and  a  pleasure  personal  to 
myself,  shall  prove  to  be  of  serious  benefit  to  you  and 
Mr.  Desborough." 

"Your  Highness,"  replied  Clara,  "  1  must  begin  with 
262 


EPILOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR   DIVAN 

thanks ;  it  is  like  what  I  have  heard  of  you,  that  you  should 
thus  take  up  the  case  of  the  unfortunate ;  and  as  for  my 
Harry,  he  is  worthy  of  all  that  you  can  do."   She  paused. 

"  But  for  yourself.?* "  suggested  Mr.  Godall — **  it  was 
thus  you  were  about  to  continue,  I  believe." 

'*  You  take  the  words  out  of  my  mouth,"  she  said. 
"  For  myself  it  is  different." 

**I  am  not  here  to  be  a  judge  of  men,"  replied  the 
Prince ;  '*  still  less  of  women.  I  am  now  a  private  per- 
son like  yourself  and  many  million  others ;  but  I  am  one 
who  still  fights  upon  the  side  of  quiet.  Now,  madam, 
you  know  better  than  I,  and  God  better  than  you,  what 
you  have  done  to  mankind  in  the  past;  I  pause  not  to 
inquire ;  it  is  with  the  future  I  concern  myself,  it  is  for 
the  future  I  demand  security.  I  would  not  willingly  put 
arms  into  the  hands  of  a  disloyal  combatant ;  and  I  dare 
not  restore  to  wealth  one  of  the  leviers  of  a  private  and 
a  barbarous  war.  I  speak  with  some  severity,  and  yet  I 
pick  my  terms.  I  tell  myself  continually  that  you  are  a 
woman ;  and  a  voice  continually  reminds  me  of  the  chil- 
dren whose  lives  and  limbs  you  have  endangered.  A 
woman, "  he  repeated  solemnly  —  '  *  and  children.  Pos- 
sibly, madam,  when  you  are  yourself  a  mother,  you  will 
feel  the  bite  of  that  antithesis :  possibly  when  you  kneel 
at  night  beside  a  cradle,  a  fear  will  fall  upon  you,  heavier 
than  any  shame ;  and  when  your  child  lies  in  the  pain 
and  danger  of  disease,  you  shall  hesitate  to  kneel  before 
your  Maker." 

"You  look  at  the  fault,"  she  said,  "and  not  at  the 
excuse.  Has  your  own  heart  never  leaped  within  you 
at  some  story  of  oppression  ?  But,  alas,  no !  for  you 
were  born  upon  a  throne." 

263 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

*'!  was  born  of  woman,"  said  the  Prince;  '*\  came 
forth  from  my  mother's  agony,  helpless  as  a  wren,  like 
other  nurslings.  This,  which  you  forgot,  I  have  still 
faithfully  remembered.  Is  it  not  one  of  your  English 
poets,  that  looked  abroad  upon  the  earth  and  saw  vast 
circumvallations,  innumerable  troops  manoeuvering, 
war-ships  at  sea  and  a  great  dust  of  battles  on  shore ; 
and  casting  anxiously  about  for  what  should  be  the 
cause  of  so  many  and  painful  preparations,  spied  at  last, 
in  the  cfenter  of  all,  a  mother  and  her  babe  ?  These, 
madam,  are  my  politics ;  and  the  verses,  which  are  by 
Mr.  Coventry  Patmore,  I  have  caused  to  be  translated 
into  the  Bohemian  tongue.  Yes,  these  are  my  politics : 
to  change  what  we  can;  to  better  what  we  can;  but 
still  to  bear  in  mind  that  man  is  but  a  devil  weakly  fet- 
tered by  some  generous  beliefs  and  impositions;  and 
for  no  word  however  nobly  sounding,  and  no  cause 
however  just  and  pious,  to  relax  the  stricture  of  these 
bonds." 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  moment 

'*Ifear,  madam,"  resumed  the  Prince,  "that  I  but 
weary  you.  My  views  are  formal  like  myself,  and  like 
myself,  they  also  begin  to  grow  old.  But  I  must  still 
trouble  you  for  some  reply." 

**I  can  say  but  one  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Desborough: 
*'l  love  my  husband." 

**lt  is  a  good  answer,"  returned  the  Prince;  ''and 
you  name  a  good  influence,  but  one  that  need  not  be 
conterminous  with  life." 

*'I  will  not  play  at  pride  with  such  a  man  as  you," 
she  answered.  ''What  do  you  ask  of  me?  not  pro- 
testations, I  am  sure.     What  shall  I  say  ?    I  have  done 

264 


EPILOGUE  OF  THE   CIGAR   DIVAN 

much  that  I  cannot  defend  and  that  I  would  not  do 
again.  Can  I  say  more  ?  Yes :  I  can  say  this :  I  never 
abused  myself  with  the  muddle-headed  fairy  tales  of 
politics.  I  was  at  least  prepared  to  meet  reprisals. 
While  I  was  levying  war  myself —  or  levying  murder  if 
you  choose  the  plainer  term  —  I  never  accused  my  ad- 
versaries of  assassination.  I  never  felt  or  feigned  a 
righteous  horror,  when  a  price  was  put  upon  my  life  by 
those  whom  I  attacked.  I  never  called  the  policeman 
a  hireling.  I  may  have  been  a  criminal,  in  short;  but 
never  was  a  fool." 

*' Enough,  madam,"  returned  the  Prince:  ''more 
than  enough  !  Your  words  are  most  reviving  to  my 
spirits ;  for  in  this  age,  when  even  the  assassin  is  a  sen- 
timentalist, there  is  no  virtue  greater  in  my  eyes  than 
intellectual  clarity.  Suffer  me  then  to  ask  you  to  retire ; 
for  by  the  signal  of  that  bell,  I  perceive  my  old  friend, 
your  mother,  to  be  close  at  hand.  With  her  I  promise 
you  to  do  my  utmost." 

And  as  Mrs.  Desborough  returned  to  the  Divan,  the 
Prince,  opening  a  door  upon  the  other  side,  admitted 
Mrs.  Luxmore. 

**  Madam  and  my  very  good  friend,"  said  he,  "is  my 
face  so  much  changed  that  you  no  longer  recognise 
Prince  Florizel  in  Mr.  Godall  ? " 

"  To  be  sure  !  "  she  cried,  looking  at  him  through  her 
glasses.  **  1  have  always  regarded  your  Highness  as  a 
perfect  man ;  and  in  your  altered  circumstances,  of  which 
1  have  already  heard  with  deep  regret,  I  will  beg  you  to 
consider  my  respect  increased  instead  of  lessened." 

*'I  have  found  it  so,"  returned  the  Prince,  "with 
every  class  of  my  acquaintance.     But,  madam,  I  pray 

265 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

you  to  be  seated.     My  business  is  of  a  delicate  order 
and  regards  your  daughter." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Mrs.  Luxmore,  "you  may  save 
yourself  the  trouble  of  speaking,  for  I  have  fully  made 
up  my  mind  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  her.  I  will 
not  hear  one  word  in  her  defence ;  but  as  I  value  noth- 
ing so  particularly  as  the  virtue  of  justice,  I  think  it  my 
duty  to  explain  to  you  the  grounds  of  my  complaint. 
She  deserted  me,  her  natural  protector;  for  years,  she 
has  consorted  with  the  most  disreputable  persons;  and 
to  fill  the  cup  of  her  offence,  she  has  recently  married. 
I  refuse  to  see  her,  or  the  being  to  whom  she  has  linked 
herself.  One  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  a  year,  I  have 
always  offered  her:  I  offer  it  again.  It  is  what  I  had 
myself  when  I  was  her  age." 

"  Very  well,  madam,"  said  the  Prince;  "  and  be  that 
so!  But  to  touch  upon  another:  what  was  the  income 
of  the  Reverend  Bernard  Fanshawe  ?  " 

"My  father?"  asked  the  spirited  old  lady.  "I  be- 
lieve he  had  seven  hundred  pounds  in  the  year." 

"You  were  one,  I  think,  of  several.^"  pursued  the 
Prince. 

"Of  four,"  was  the  reply.  "We  were  four  daugh- 
ters ;  and  painful  as  the  admission  is  to  make,  a  more 
detestable  family  could  scarce  be  found  in  England." 

"Dear  me  !"  said  the  Prince.  "And  you,  madam, 
have  an  income  of  eight  thousand  ?  " 

""Not  more  than  five,"  returned  the  old  lady;  "but 
where  on  earth  are  you  conducting  me  ?" 

"To  an  allowance  of  cne  thousand  pounds  a  year," 
replied  Florizel  smiling.  "  For  1  must  not  suffer  you  to 
take  your  father  for  a  rule.     He  was  poor,  you  are  rich. 

266 


EPILOGUE  OF  THE  CIGAR  DIVAN 

He  had  many  calls  upon  his  poverty;  there  are  none 
upon  your  wealth.  And  indeed,  madam,  if  you  will 
let  me  touch  this  matter  with  a  needle,  there  is  but  one 
point  in  common  to  your  two  positions :  that  each  had 
a  daughter  more  remarkable  for  liveliness  than  duty." 

"I  have  been  entrapped  into  this  house,"  said  the  old 
lady,  getting  to  her  feet.  "  But  it  shall  not  avail.  Not 
all  the  tobacconists  in  Europe    .     .     ." 

*' Ah,  madam,"  interrupted  Florizel,  ''before  what  is 
referred  to  as  my  fall,  you  had  not  used  such  language  ! 
And  since  you  so  much  object  to  the  simple  industry  by 
which  I  live,  let  me  give  you  a  friendly  hint.  If  you 
will  not  consent  to  support  your  daughter,  I  shall  be 
constrained  to  place  that  lady  behind  my  counter,  where 
1  doubt  not  she  would  prove  a  great  attraction ;  and  your 
son-in-law  shall  have  a  livery  and  run  the  errands. 
With  such  young  blood  my  business  might  be  doubled, 
and  I  might  be  bound  in  common  gratitude,  to  place 
the  name  of  Luxmore  beside  that  of  Godall." 

'*Your  Highness,"  said  the  old  lady,  *'  I  have  been 
very  rude,  and  you  are  very  cunning.  I  suppose  the 
minx  is  on  the  premises.     Produce  her." 

"Let  us  rather  observe  them  unperceived,"  said  the 
Prince ;  and  so  saying  he  rose  and  quietly  drew  back  the 
curtain. 

Mrs.  Desborough  sat  with  her  back  to  them  on  a 
chair;  Somerset  and  Harry  were  hanging  on  her  words 
with  extraordinary  interest;  Challoner,  alleging  some 
affair,  had  long  ago  withdrawn  from  the  detested  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  enchantress. 

*'At  that  moment,"  Mrs.  Desborough  was  saying, 
**Mr.  Gladstone  detected  the  features  of  his  cowardly 

267 


MORE  NEW   ARABIAN   NIGHTS 

assailant.  A  cry  rose  to  his  lips :  a  cry  of  mingled  tri- 
umph   .     .     ." 

''That  is  Mr.  Somerset!  "  interrupted  the  spirited  old 
lady,  in  the  highest  note  of  her  register.  "  Mr.  Somer- 
set, what  have  you  done  with  my  house-property  ?  " 

''Madam,"  said  the  Prince,  "let  it  be  mine  to  give 
the  explanation ;  and  in  the  meanwhile,  welcome  your 
daughter." 

"  Well,  Clara,  how  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Luxmore. 
"  It  appears  1  am  to  give  you  an  allowance.  So  much 
the  better  for  you.  As  for  Mr.  Somerset,  I  am  very 
ready  to  have  an  explanation;  for  the  whole  affair, 
though  costly,  was  eminently  humorous.  And  at  any 
rate,"  she  added,  nodding  to  Paul,  "he  is  a  young  gen- 
tleman for  whom  I  have  a  great  affection,  and  his  pic- 
tures were  the  funniest  I  ever  saw." 

"  I  have  ordered  a  collation,"  said  the  Prince.  "  Mr. 
Somerset,  as  these  are  all  your  friends,  I  propose,  if  you 
please,  that  you  should  join  them  at  table.  I  will  take 
the  shop." 


268 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 


{ 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 

CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCES   THE   ADMIRAL 

WHEN  Dick  Naseby  was  in  Paris  he  made  some 
odd  acquaintances,  for  he  was  one  of  those  who 
have  ears  to  hear,  and  can  use  their  eyes  no  less  than 
their  intelligence.  He  made  as  many  thoughts  as 
Stuart  Mill;  but  his  philosophy  concerned  flesh  and 
blood,  and  was  experimental  as  to  its  method.  He  was 
a  type-hunter  among  mankind.  He  despised  small 
game  and  insignificant  personalities,  whether  in  the 
shape  of  dukes  or  bagmen,  letting  them  go  by  like  sea- 
weed ;  but  show  him  a  refined  or  powerful  face,  let  him 
hear  a  plangent  or  a  penetrating  voice,  fish  for  him  with 
a  living  look  in  some  one's  eye,  a  passionate  gesture,  a 
meaning  or  ambiguous  smile,  and  his  mind  was  in- 
stantaneously av/akened.  "There  was  a  man,  there 
was  a  woman,"  he  seemed  to  say,  and  he  stood  up  to 
the  task  of  comprehension  with  the  delight  of  an  artist 
in  his  art. 

And  indeed,  rightly  considered,  this  interest  of  his 
was  an  artistic  interest.     There  is  no  science  in  the  per^ 

271 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

sonal  study  of  human  nature.  All  comprehension  is 
creation ;  the  woman  I  love  is  somewhat  of  my  handi- 
work ;  and  the  great  lover,  like  the  great  painter,  is  he 
that  can  so  embellish  his  subject  as  to  make  her  more 
than  human,  whilst  yet  by  a  cunning  art  he  has  so  based 
his  apotheosis  on  the  nature  of  the  case  that  the  woman 
can  go  on  being  a  true  woman,  and  give  her  character 
free  play,  and  show  littleness  or  cherish  spite,  or  be 
greedy  of  common  pleasures,  and  he  continue  to  wor- 
ship without  a  thought  of  incongruity.  To  love  a 
character  is  only  the  heroic  way  of  understanding  it 
When  we  love,  by  some  noble  method  of  our  own  or 
some  nobility  of  mien  or  nature  in  the  other,  we  appre- 
hend the  loved  one  by  what  is  noblest  in  ourselves. 
When  we  are  merely  studying  an  eccentricity,  the 
method  of  our  study  is  but  a  series  of  allowances.  To 
begin  to  understand  is  to  begin  to  sympathise;  for  com- 
prehension comes  only  when  we  have  stated  another's 
faults  and  virtues  in  terms  of  our  own.  Hence  the 
proverbial  toleration  of  artists  for  their  own  evil  crea- 
tions. Hence,  too,  it  came  about  that  Dick  Naseby,  a 
high-minded  creature,  and  as  scrupulous  and  brave  a 
gentleman  as  you  would  want  to  meet,  held  in  a  sort  of 
affection  the  various  human  creeping  things  whom  he 
had  met  and  studied. 

One  of  these  was  Mr.  Peter  Van  Tromp,  an  Eng- 
lish-speaking, two-legged  animal  of  the  international 
genus,  and  by  profession  of  general  and  more  than 
equivocal  utility.  Years  before  he  had  been  a  painter  of 
some  standing  in  a  colony,  and  portraits  signed  **  Van 
Tromp  "  had  celebrated  the  greatness  of  colonial  govern- 
ors and  judges.     In  those  days  he  had  been  married, 

272 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

and  driven  his  wife  and  infant  daughter  in  a  pony  trap. 
What  were  the  steps  of  his  declension  ?  No  one  ex- 
actly knew.  Here  he  was  at  least,  and  had  been,  any 
time  these  past  ten  years,  a  sort  of  dismal  parasite  upon 
the  foreigner  in  Paris. 

It  would  be  hazardous  to  specify  his  exact  industry. 
Coarsely  followed,  it  would  have  merited  a  name 
grown  somewhat  unfamiliar  to  our  ears.  Followed  as 
he  followed  it,  with  a  skilful  reticence,  in  a  kind  of  so- 
cial chiaroscuro,  it  was  still  possible  for  the  polite  to  call 
him  a  professional  painter.  His  lair  was  in  the  Grand 
Hotel  and  the  gaudiest  cafes.  There  he  might  be  seen 
jotting  off  a  sketch  with  an  air  of  some  inspiration ;  and 
he  was  always  affable,  and  one  of  the  easiest  of  men  to 
fall  in  talk  withal.  A  conversation  usually  ripened  into 
a  peculiar  sort  of  intimacy,  and  it  was  extraordinary 
how  many  little  services  Van  Tromp  contrived  to  ren- 
der in  the  course  of  six-and-thirty  hours.  He  occupied 
a  position  between  a  friend  and  a  courier,  which  made 
him  worse  than  embarrassing  to  repay.  But  those 
whom  he  obliged  could  always  buy  one  of  his  villainous 
little  pictures,  or,  where  the  favours  had  been  prolonged 
and  more  than  usually  delicate,  might  order  and  pay  for 
a  large  canvas,  with  perfect  certainty  that  they  would 
hear  no  more  of  the  transaction. 

Among  resident  artists  he  enjoyed  the  celebrity  of  a 
non-professional  sort.  He  had  spent  more  money  —  no 
less  than  three  individual  fortunes,  it  was  whispered  — 
than  any  of  his  associates  could  ever  hope  to  gain. 
Apart  from  his  colonial  career,  he  had  been  to  Greece  in 
a  brigantine  with  four  brass  carronades ;  he  had  travelled 
Europe  in  a  chaise-and-four,  drawing  bridle  at  the  palace 

273 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

doors  of  German  princes;  queens  of  song  and  dance  had 
followed  him  like  sheep  and  paid  his  tailor's  bills.  And 
to  behold  him  now,  seeking  small  loans  with  plaintive 
condescension,  sponging  for  breakfast  on  an  art  student 
of  nineteen,  a  fallen  Don  Juan  who  had  neglected  to  die 
at  the  propitious  hour,  had  a  colour  of  romance  for  young 
imaginations.  His  name  and  his  bright  past,  seen 
through  the  prism  of  whispered  gossip,  had  gained  him 
the  nickname  of  The  Admiral. 

Dick  found  him  one  day  at  the  receipt  of  custom, 
rapidly  painting  a  pair  of  hens  and  a  cock  in  a  little 
water-colour  sketching-box,  and  now  and  then  glancing 
at  the  ceiling  like  a  man  who  should  seek  inspiration 
from  the  muse.  Dick  thought  it  remarkable  that  a 
painter  should  choose  to  work  over  an  absinthe  in  a 
public  cafe,  and  looked  the  man  over.  The  aged  rakish- 
ness  of  his  appearance  was  set  off  by  a  youthful  cos- 
tume; he  had  disreputable  grey  hair  and  a  disreputable, 
sore,  red  nose;  but  the  coat  and  the  gesture,  the  out- 
works of  the  man,  were  still  designed  for  show.  Dick 
came  up  to  his  table  and  inquired  if  he  might  look  at 
what  the  gentleman  was  doing.  No  one  was  so  de- 
lighted as  the  Admiral. 

*'  A  bit  of  a  thing,"  said  he.  ''  I  just  dash  them  off 
like  that.    I — I  dash  them  off,"  he  added,  with  a  gesture. 

''Quite  so,"  said  Dick,  who  was  appalled  by  the 
feebleness  of  the  production. 

"Understand  me,"  continued  Van  Tromp,  "I  am  a 
man  of  the  world.  And  yet  —  once  an  artist  always  an 
artist.  All  of  a  sudden  a  thought  takes  me  in  the  street ; 
I  become  its  prey ;  it's  like  a  pretty  woman ;  no  use  to 
struggle;  I  must  —  dash  it  off." 

274 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

**I  see,"  said  Dick. 

"Yes,"  pursued  the  painter;  *Mt  all  comes  easily, 
easily  to  me ;  it  is  not  my  business ;  it's  a  pleasure.  Life 
is  my  business  —  life  —  this  great  city,  Paris  —  Paris  after 
dark  —  its  lights,  its  gardens,  its  odd  corners.  Aha!" 
he  cried,  "to  be  young  again!  The  heart  is  young,  but 
the  heels  are  leaden.  A  poor,  mean  business,  to  grow 
old !  Nothing  remains  but  the  coup  d'oeil,  the  contem- 
plative man's  enjoyment,  Mr. ,"  and  he  paused  for 

the  name. 

"Naseby,"  returned  Dick. 

The  other  treated  him  at  once  to  an  exciting  beverage, 
and  expatiated  on  the  pleasure  of  meeting  a  compatriot 
in  a  foreign  land;  to  hear  him  you  would  have  thought 
they  had  encountered  in  Central  Africa.  Dick  had  never 
found  any  one  take  a  fancy  to  him  so  readily,  nor  show 
it  in  an  easier  or  less  offensive  manner.  He  seemed 
tickled  with  him  as  an  elderly  fellow  about  town  might 
be  tickled  by  a  pleasant  and  witty  lad ;  he  indicated  that 
he  was  no  precisian,  but  in  his  wildest  times  had  never 
been  such  a  blade  as  he  thought  Dick.  Dick  protested, 
but  in  vain.  This  manner  of  carrying  an  intimacy  at 
the  bayonet's  point  was  Van  Tromp's  stock-in-trade. 
With  an  older  man  he  insinuated  himself;  with  youth 
he  imposed  himself,  and  in  the  same  breath  imposed  an 
ideal  on  his  victim,  who  saw  that  he  must  work  up  to 
it  or  lose  the  esteem  of  this  old  and  vicious  patron. 
And  what  young  man  can  bear  to  lose  a  character  for 
vice  ? 

At  last,  as  it  grew  towards  dinner-time,  "Do  you 
know  Paris  ">  "  asked  Van  Tromp. 

"Not  so  well  as  you,  I  am  convinced,"  said  Dick. 

375 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

"And  SO  am  I,"  returned  Van  Tromp  gaily. 

"Paris!  My  young  friend  —  you  will  allow  me?  — 
when  you  know  Paris  as  I  do,  you  will  have  seen  Strange 
Things.  I  say  no  more;  all  I  say  is,  Strange  Things. 
We  are  men  of  the  world,  you  and  I,  and  in  Paris,  in 
the  heart  of  civilised  existence.  This  is  an  opportunity, 
Mr.  Naseby.  Let  us  dine.  Let  me  show  you  where  to 
dine. " 

Dick  consented.  On  the  way  to  dinner  the  Admiral 
showed  him  where  to  buy  gloves,  and  made  him  buy 
them ;  where  to  buy  cigars,  and  made  him  buy  a  vast 
store,  some  of  which  he  obligingly  accepted.  At  the 
restaurant  he  showed  him  what  to  order,  with  surpris- 
ing consequences  in  the  bill.  What  he  made  that  night 
by  his  percentages  it  would  be  hard  to  estimate.  And 
all  the  while  Dick  smilingly  consented,  understanding 
well  that  he  was  being  done,  but  taking  his  losses  in 
the  pursuit  of  character,  as  a  hunter  sacrifices  his  dogs. 
As  for  the  Strange  Things,  the  reader  will  be  relieved 
to  hear  that  they  were  no  stranger  than  might  have  been 
expected,  and  he  may  find  things  quite  as  strange  with- 
out the  expense  of  a  Van  Tromp  for  guide.  Yet  he  was 
a  guide  of  no  mean  order,  who  made  up  for  the  poverty 
of  what  he  had  to  show  by  a  copious,  imaginative  com- 
mentary. 

"And  such,"  said  he  with  a  hiccup,  *'  such  is  Paris." 

"  Pooh  ! "  said  Dick,  who  was  tired  of  the  perform- 
ance. 

The  Admiral  hung  an  ear,  and  looked  up  sidelong 
with  a  glimmer  of  suspicion. 

"Good-night,"  said  Dick;  "I'm  tired." 

"  So  English  ! "  cried  Van  Tromp,  clutching  him  by 
276 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

the  hand.  "So  English!  So  blase/  Such  a  charming 
companion!     Let  me  see  you  home." 

*'  Look  here,"  returned  Dick,  **  I  have  said  good-night, 
and  now  I'm  going.  You're  an  amusing  old  boy;  I 
like  you,  in  a  sense ;  but  here's  an  end  of  it  for  to-night. 
Not  another  cigar,  not  another  grog,  not  another  per- 
centage out  of  me." 

''  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  cried  the  Admiral  with  dignity. 

' '  Tut,  man ! "  said  Dick ;  * '  you're  not  offended ;  you're 
a  man  of  the  world,  I  thought.  I've  been  studying 
you,  and  it's  over.  Have  I  not  paid  for  the  lesson  ?  y4u 
revoir. 

Van  Tromp  laughed  gaily,  shook  hands  up  to  the 
elbows,  hoped  cordially  they  would  meet  again  and  that 
often,  but  looked  after  Dick  as  he  departed  with  a 
tremor  of  indignation.  After  that  they  two  not  unfre- 
quently  fell  in  each  other's  way,  and  Dick  would  often 
treat  the  old  boy  to  breakfast  on  a  moderate  scale  and 
in  a  restaurant  of  his  own  selection.  Often,  too,  he 
would  lend  Van  Tromp  the  matter  of  a  pound,  in  view 
of  that  gentleman's  contemplated  departure  for  Aus- 
tralia; there  would  be  a  scene  of  farewell  almost  touch- 
ing in  character,  and  a  week  or  a  month  later  they 
would  meet  on  the  same  boulevard  without  surprise  or 
embarrassment.  And  in  the  meantime  Dick  learned 
more  about  his  acquaintance  on  all  sides ;  heard  of  his 
yacht,  his  chaise-and-four,  his  brief  season  of  celebrity 
amid  a  more  confiding  population,  his  daughter,  of 
whom  he  loved  to  whimper  in  his  cups,  his  sponging, 
parasitical,  nameless  way  of  life;  and  with  each  new 
detail  something  that  was  not  merely  interest  nor  yet 
altogether  affection  grew  up  in  his  mind  towards  this 

277 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

disreputable  stepson  of  the  arts.  Ere  he  left  Paris  Van 
Tromp  was  one  of  those  whom  he  entertained  to  a 
farewell  supper;  and  the  old  gentleman  made  the  speech 
of  the  evening,  and  then  fell  below  the  table,  weeping, 
smiling,  paralysed. 


«78 


CHAPTER  II 

A   LETTER  TO  THE   PAPERS 

Old  Mr.  Naseby  had  the  sturdy,  untutored  nature  of 
the  upper  middle  class.  The  universe  seemed  plain  to 
him.  **The  thing's  right,"  he  would  say,  or  **the 
thing's  wrong  " ;  and  there  was  an  end  of  it.  There  was 
a  contained,  prophetic  energy  in  his  utterances,  even  on 
the  slightest  affairs ;  he  saw  the  damned  thing ;  if  you 
did  not,  it  must  be  from  perversity  of  will;  and  this 
sent  the  blood  to  his  head.  Apart  from  this,  which 
made  him  an  exacting  companion,  he  was  one  of  the 
most  upright,  hot-tempered  old  gentlemen  in  England. 
Florid,  with  white  hair,  the  face  of  an  old  Jupiter,  and 
the  figure  of  an  old  fox-hunter,  he  enlivened  the  Vale 
of  Thyme  from  end  to  end  on  his  big,  cantering  chest- 
nut. 

He  had  a  hearty  respect  for  Dick  as  a  lad  of  parts. 
Dick  had  a  respect  for  his  father  as  the  best  of  men, 
tempered  by  the  politic  revolt  of  a  youth  who  has  to 
see  to  his  own  independence.  Whenever  the  pair  ar- 
gued, they  came  to  an  open  rupture;  and  arguments 
were  frequent,  for  they  were  both  positive,  and  both 
loved  the  work  of  the  intelligence.  It  was  a  treat  to 
hear  Mr.  Naseby  defending  the  Church  of  England  in  a 
volley  of  oaths,  or  supporting  ascetic  morals  with  an 

279 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

enthusiasm  not  entirely  innocent  of  port  wine.  Dick 
used  to  wax  indignant,  and  none  the  less  so  because,  as 
his  father  was  a  skilful  disputant,  he  found  himself  not 
seldom  in  the  wrong.  On  these  occasions  he  would 
redouble  in  energy,  and  declare  that  black  was  white, 
and  blue  yellow,  with  much  conviction  and  heat  of 
manner;  but  in  the  morning  such  a  licence  of  debate 
weighed  upon  him  like  a  crime,  and  he  would  seek  out 
his  father,  where  he  walked  before  breakfast  on  a  ter- 
race overlooking  all  the  Vale  of  Thyme. 

"I  have  to  apologise,  sir,  for  last  night "  he  would 

begin. 

**  Of  course  you  have,"  the  old  gentleman  would  cut 
in  cheerfully.  "You  spoke  like  a  fool.  Say  no  more 
about  it." 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,  sir.  1  refer  to  a  partic- 
ular point.  I  confess  there  is  much  force  in  your  argu- 
ment from  the  doctrine  of  possibilities." 

** Of  course  there  is,"  returned  his  father.  "Come 
down  and  look  at  the  stables.  Only,"  he  would  add, 
"bear  this  in  mind,  and  do  remember  that  a  man  of  my 
age  and  experience  knows  more  about  what  he  is  say- 
ing than  a  raw  boy." 

He  would  utter  the  word  "boy"  even  more  offen- 
sively than  the  average  of  fathers,  and  the  light  way  in 
which  he  accepted  these  apologies  cut  Dick  to  the  heart. 
The  latter  drew  slighting  comparisons,  and  remem- 
bered that  he  was  the  only  one  who  ever  apologised. 
This  gave  him  a  high  station  in  his  own  esteem,  and 
thus  contributed  indirectly  to  his  better  behaviour;  for 
he  was  scrupulous  as  well  as  high-spirited,  and  prided 
himself  on  nothing  more  than  on  a  just  submission. 

280 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

So  things  went  on  until  the  famous  occasion  when 
Mr.  Naseby,  becoming  engrossed  in  securing  the  elec- 
tion of  a  sound  party  candidate  to  Parliament,  wrote  a 
flaming  letter  to  the  papers.  The  letter  had  about  every 
demerit  of  party  letters  in  general:  it  was  expressed 
with  the  energy  of  a  believer;  it  was  personal;  it  was 
a  little  more  than  half  unfair,  and  about  a  quarter  un- 
true. The  old  man  did  not  mean  to  say  what  was  un- 
true, you  may  be  sure ;  but  he  had  rashly  picked  up 
gossip,  as  his  prejudice  suggested,  and  now  rashly 
launched  it  on  the  public  with  the  sanction  of  his  name. 

"The  Liberal  candidate,"  he  concluded,  'Ms  thus  a 
public  turncoat.  Is  that  the  sort  of  man  we  want  ? 
He  has  been  given  the  lie,  and  has  swallowed  the  in- 
sult. Is  that  the  sort  of  man  we  want  ?  I  answer.  No ! 
with  all  the  force  of  my  conviction,  I  answer,  No  !  " 

And  then  he  signed  and  dated  the  letter  with  an  am- 
ateur's pride,  and  looked  to  be  famous  by  the  morrow. 

Dick,  who  had  heard  nothing  of  the  matter,  was  up 
first  on  that  inauspicious  day,  and  took  the  journal  to 
an  arbour  in  the  garden.  He  found  his  father's  mani- 
festo in  one  column ;  and  in  another  a  leading  article. 
"No  one  that  we  are  aware  of,"  ran  the  article,  "had 
consulted  Mr.  Naseby  on  the  subject,  but  if  he  had  been 
appealed  to  by  the  whole  body  of  electors,  his  letter 
would  be  none  the  less  ungenerous  and  unjust  to  Mr. 
Dalton.  We  do  not  choose  to  give  the  lie  to  Mr. 
Naseby,  for  we  are  too  well  aware  of  the  consequences, 
but  we  shall  venture  instead  to  print  the  facts  of  both 
cases  referred  to  by  this  red-hot  partisan  in  another  por- 
tion of  our  issue.  Mr.  Naseby  is  of  course  a  large  pro- 
prietor in  our  neighbourhood :  but  fidelity  to  facts,  de- 

281 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

cent  feeling,  and  English  grammar,  are  all  of  them  qual- 
ities more  important  than  the  possession  of  land.     Mr. 

N is  doubtless  a  great  man ;  in  his  large  gardens 

and  that  half  mile  of  greenhouses,  where  he  has  prob- 
ably ripened  his  intellect  and  temper,  he  may  say  what 
he  will  to  his  hired  vassals,  but  (as  the  Scots  say) — 

here 
He  maunna  think  to  domineer. 

Liberalism, "  continued  the  anonymous  journalist,  ' '  is  of 
too  free  and  sound  a  growth,"  etc. 

Richard  Naseby  read  the  whole  thing  from  beginning 
to  end ;  and  a  crushing  shame  fell  upon  his  spirit.  His 
father  had  played  the  fool ;  he  had  gone  out  noisily  to 
war,  and  come  back  with  confusion.  The  moment 
that  his  trumpets  sounded,  he  had  been  disgracefully 
unhorsed.  There  was  no  question  as  to  the  facts;  they 
were  one  and  all  against  the  Squire.  Richard  would 
have  given  his  ears  to  have  suppressed  the  issue;  but 
as  that  could  not  be  done,  he  had  his  horse  saddled, 
and,  furnishing  himself  with  a  convenient  staff,  rode  off 
at  once  to  Thymebury. 

The  editor  was  at  breakfast  in  a  large,  sad  apartment. 
The  absence  of  furniture,  the  extreme  meanness  of  the 
meal,  and  the  haggard,  bright-eyed,  consumptive  look 
of  the  culprit,  unmanned  our  hero;  but  he  clung  to  his 
stick  and  was  stout  and  war-like. 

"You  wrote  the  article  in  this  morning's  paper?"  he 
demanded. 

"You  are  young  Mr.  Naseby.^  I  published  it,"  re- 
plied the  editor,  rising. 

"My  father  is  an  old  man,"  said  Richard;  and  then 
a82 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

with  an  outburst,  "And  a  damned  sight  finer  fellow 
than  either  you  or  Dalton ! "  He  stopped  and  swal- 
lowed; he  was  determined  that  all  should  go  with 
regularity.  "I  have  but  one  question  to  put  to  you, 
sir,"  he  resumed.  "Granted  that  my  father  was  mis- 
informed, would  it  not  have  been  more  decent  to  with- 
hold the  letter  and  communicate  with  him  in  private  ?  " 

"Believe  me,"  returned  the  editor,  "that  alternative 
was  not  open  to  me.  Mr.  Naseby  told  me  in  a  note 
that  he  had  sent  his  letter  to  three  other  journals,  and  in 
fact  threatened  me  with  what  he  called  exposure  if  I  kept 
it  back  from  mine.  I  am  really  concerned  at  what  has 
happened ;  I  sympathise  and  approve  of  your  emotion, 
young  gentleman;  but  the  attack  on  Mr.  Dalton  was 
gross,  very  gross,  and  I  had  no  choice  but  to  offer  him 
my  columns  to  reply.  Party  has  its  duties,  sir,"  added 
the  scribe,  kindling  as  one  who  should  propose  a  senti- 
ment; "and  the  attack  was  gross." 

Richard  stood  for  half  a  minute  digesting  the  answer; 
and  then  the  god  of  fair  play  came  uppermost  in  his 
heart,  and,  murmuring  "Good-morning,"  he  made  his 
escape  into  the  street. 

His  horse  was  not  hurried  on  the  way  home,  and  he 
was  late  for  breakfast.  The  Squire  was  standing  with 
his  back  to  the  fire  in  a  state  bordering  on  apoplexy,  his 
fingers  violently  knitted  under  his  coat-tails.  As  Rich- 
ard came  in,  he  opened  and  shut  his  mouth  like  a  cod- 
fish, and  his  eyes  protruded. 

"  You  have  seen  that,  sir  ?  "  he  cried,  nodding  towards 
the  paper. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Richard. 

"Oh,  you've  read  it,  have  you  ?" 
283 


THE  STORY   OF  A  LIE 

*'  Yes;  I  have  read  it,"  replied  Richard,  looking  at  his 
foot. 

''Well,"  demanded  the  old  gentleman,  "and  what 
have  you  to  say  to  it,  sir  ?  " 

*' You  seem  to  have  been  misinformed,"  said  Dick. 

•'Well  ?  What  then  ?  Is  your  mind  so  sterile,  sir  ? 
Have  you  not  a  word  of  comment  ?  no  proposal  ?" 

"I  fear,  sir,  you  must  apologise  to  Mr.  Dalton.  It 
would  be  more  handsome,  indeed,  it  would  be  only 

just,  and  a  free  acknowledgment  would  go  far " 

Richard  paused,  no  language  appearing  delicate  enough 
to  suit  the  case. 

"That  is  a  suggestion  which  should  have  come  from 
me,  sir, "  roared  the  father.  "  It  is  out  of  place  upon  your 
lips.  It  is  not  the  thought  of  a  loyal  son.  Why,  sir,  if 
my  father  had  been  plunged  in  such  deplorable  circum- 
stances, I  should  have  thrashed  the  editor  of  that  vile 
sheet  within  an  inch  of  his  life.  I  should  have  thrashed 
the  man,  sir.  It  would  have  been  the  action  of  an  ass; 
but  it  would  have  shown  that  I  had  the  blood  and  the 
natural  affections  of  a  man.  Son  ?  You  are  no  son,  no 
son  of  mine,  sir!" 

"Sir!"  said  Dick. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  are,  sir,"  pursued  the  Squire. 
"You're  a  Benthamite.  I  disown  you.  Your  mother 
would  have  died  for  shame ;  there  was  no  modern  cant 
about  your  mother;  she  thought  —  she  said  to  me,  sir 
—  I'm  glad  she's  in  her  grave,  Dick  Naseby.  Misin- 
formed! Misinformed,  sir?  Have  you  no  loyalty,  no 
spring,  no  natural  affections  ?  Are  you  clockwork, 
hey?  Away!  This  is  no  place  for  you.  Away!" 
(waving  his  hands  in  the  air)  **  Go  away !    Leave  mel " 

284 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

At  this  moment  Dick  beat  a  retreat  in  a  disarray  of 
nerves,  a  whistling  and  clamour  of  his  own  arteries, 
and  in  short  in  such  a  final  bodily  disorder  as  made  him 
alike  incapable  of  speech  or  hearing.  And  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  turmoil,  a  sense  of  unpardonable  injustice 
remained  graven  in  his  memory. 


385 


CHAPTER  III 

IN  THE   admiral's  NAME 

There  was  no  return  to  the  subject.  Dick  and  his 
father  were  henceforth  on  terms  of  coldness.  The  up- 
right old  gentleman  grew  more  upright  when  he  met 
his  son,  buckramed  with  immortal  anger;  he  asked 
after  Dick's  health,  and  discussed  the  weather  and  the 
crops  with  an  appalling  courtesy ;  his  pronunciation  was 
point-device,  his  voice  was  distant,  distinct,  and  some- 
times almost  trembling  with  suppressed  indignation. 

As  for  Dick,  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  life  had  come 
abruptly  to  an  end.  He  came  out  of  his  theories  and 
clevernesses;  his  premature  man-of-the-worldness,  on 
which  he  had  prided  himself  on  his  travels,  ''shrank 
like  a  thing  ashamed  "  before  this  real  sorrow.  Pride, 
wounded  honour,  pity  and  respect  tussled  together  dai- 
ly in  his  heart;  and  now  he  was  within  an  ace  of  throw- 
ing himself  upon  his  father's  mercy,  and  now  of  slipping 
forth  at  night  and  coming  back  no  more  to  Naseby 
House.  He  suffered  from  the  sight  of  his  father,  nay, 
even  from  the  neighbourhood  of  this  familiar  valley, 
where  every  corner  had  its  legend,  and  he  was  besieged 
with  memories  of  childhood.  If  he  fled  into  a  new  land, 
and  among  none  but  strangers,  he  might  escape  his 
destiny,  who  knew  }  and  begin  again  light-heartedly. 

286 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

From  that  chief  peak  of  the  hills,  that  now  and  then, 
like  an  uplifted  finger,  shone  in  an  arrow  of  sunlight 
through  the  broken  clouds,  the  shepherd  in  clear 
weather  might  perceive  the  shining  of  the  sea.  There, 
he  thought,  was  hope.  But  his  heart  failed  him  when 
he  saw  the  Squire ;  and  he  remained.  His  fate  was  not 
that  of  the  voyager  by  sea  and  land ;  he  was  to  travel 
in  the  spirit,  and  begin  his  journey  sooner  than  he  sup- 
posed. 

For  it  chanced  one  day  that  his  walk  led  him  into  a 
portion  of  the  uplands  which  was  almost  unknown  to 
him.  Scrambling  through  some  rough  woods,  he  came 
out  upon  a  moorland  reaching  towards  the  hills.  A  few 
lofty  Scots  firs  grew  hard  by  upon  a  knoll ;  a  clear  fountain 
near  the  foot  of  the  knoll  sent  up  a  miniature  streamlet 
which  meandered  in  the  heather.  A  shower  had  just 
skimmed  by,  but  now  the  sun  shone  brightly,  and  the 
air  smelt  of  the  pines  and  the  grass.  On  a  stone  under 
the  trees  sat  a  young  lady  sketching.  We  have  learned 
to  think  of  women  in  a  sort  of  symbolic  transfiguration, 
based  on  clothes ;  and  one  of  the  readiest  ways  in  which 
we  conceive  our  mistress  is  as  a  composite  thing,  prin- 
cipally petticoats.  But  humanity  has  triumphed  over 
clothes;  the  look,  the  touch  of  a  dress  has  become  alive; 
and  the  woman  who  stitched  herself  into  these  material 
integuments  has  now  permeated  right  through  and  gone 
out  to  the  tip  of  her  skirt.  It  was  only  a  black  dress 
that  caught  Dick  Naseby 's  eye ;  but  it  took  possession 
of  his  mind,  and  all  other  thoughts  departed.  He  drew 
near  and  the  girl  turned  around.  Her  face  startled  him ; 
it  was  a  face  he  wanted;  and  he  took  it  in  at  once  like 
breathing  air. 

287 


THE  STORY   OF  A    LIE 

'M  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat, 
"  you  are  sketching." 

" Oh!  "  she  exclaimed,  ''  for  my  own  amusement.  I 
despise  the  thing." 

**Ten  to  one  you  do  yourself  injustice,"  returned 
Dick.  ''Besides,  it's  a  freemasonry.  I  sketch  myself, 
and  you  know  what  that  implies." 

''No.     What.^"  she  asked. 

"Two  things,"  he  answered.  "First,  that  I  am  no 
very  difficult  critic ;  and  second,  that  I  have  a  right  to  see 
your  picture." 

She  covered  the  block  with  both  her  hands.  "Oh 
no,"  she  said;  "  I  am  ashamed." 

"  Indeed,  I  might  give  you  a  hint,"  said  Dick.  "  Al- 
though no  artist  myself,  1  have  known  many;  in 
Paris  I  had  many  for  friends,  and  used  to  prowl  among 
studios." 

"  In  Paris.'*"  she  cried,  with  a  leap  of  light  into  her 
eyes.     "  Did  you  ever  meet  Mr.  Van  Tromp  .?" 

"  I  ?  Yes.  Why,  you  are  not  the  Admiral's  daugh- 
ter, are  you  ?  " 

"The  Admiral ?  Do  they  call  him  that  ?  "  she  cried. 
"Oh,  how  nice,  how  nice  of  them!  It  is  the  younger 
men  who  call  him  so,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  somewhat  heavily. 

' '  You  can  understand  now, "  she  said,  with  an  unspeak- 
able accent  of  contented  and  noble-minded  pride,  "  why 
it  is  I  do  not  choose  to  show  my  sketch.  Van  Tromp's 
daughter!  The  Admiral's  daughter!  I  delight  in  that 
name.     The  Admiral!    And  so  you  know  my  father?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Dick,  "  I  met  him  often ;  we  were  even 
intimate.  He  may  have  mentioned  my  name — Naseby. " 

288 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

"He  writes  so  little.  He  is  so  busy,  so  devoted  to 
his  art!  I  have  had  a  half  wish,"  she  added,  laughing, 
**that  my  father  was  a  plainer  man,  whom  I  could 
help  —  to  whom  I  could  be  a  credit;  but  only  some- 
times, you  know,  and  with  only  half  my  heart.  For  a 
great  painter  !     You  have  seen  his  works  ?" 

"I  have  seen  some  of  them,"  returned  Dick;  "they 
—  they  are  very  nice." 

She  laughed  aloud.  "Nice ? "  she  repeated.  " I  see 
you  don't  care  much  for  art."     • 

"  Not  much,"  he  admitted;  "  but  I  know  that  many 
people  are  glad  to  buy  Mr.  Van  Tromp's  pictures." 

"Call  him  the  Admiral!"  she  cried.  "It  sounds 
kindly  and  familiar;  and  I  like  to  think  that  he  is  ap- 
preciated and  looked  up  to  by  young  painters.  He  has 
not  always  been  appreciated;  he  had  a  cruel  life  for 
many  years;  and  when  1  think"  —  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes — "when  I  think  of  that,  I  feel  inclined  to  be  a 
fool,"  she  broke  off.  "And  now  I  shall  go  home.  You 
have  filled  me  full  of  happiness ;  for  think,  Mr.  Naseby, 
I  have  not  seen  my  father  since  I  was  six  years  old ;  and 
yet  he  is  in  my  thoughts  all  day !  You  must  come  and 
call  on  me;  my  aunt  will  be  delighted,  I  am  sure;  and 
then  you  will  tell  me  all  —  all  about  my  father,  will  you 
not?" 

Dick  helped  her  to  get  her  sketching  traps  together; 
and  when  all  was  ready  she  gave  Dick  her  hand  and  a 
frank  return  of  pressure. 

"You  are  my  father's  friend,"  she  said;  "  we  shall  be 
great  friends  too.    You  must  come  and  see  me  soon." 

Then  she  was  gone  down  the  hillside  at  a  run ;  and 
Dick  stood  by  himself  in  a  state  of  some  bewilderment 

289 


I 


THE  STORY   OF  A    LIE 

and  even  distress.  There  were  elements  of  laughter  in 
the  business ;  but  the  black  dress,  and  the  face  that  be- 
longed to  it,  and  the  hand  that  he  had  held  in  his,  in- 
clined him  to  a  serious  view.  What  was  he,  under  the 
circumstances,  called  upon  to  do  ?  Perhaps  to  avoid 
the  girl  ?  Well,  he  would  think  about  that  Perhaps 
to  break  the  truth  to  her  ?  Why,  ten  to  one,  such  was 
her  infatuation,  he  would  fail.  Perhaps  to  keep  up  the 
illusion,  to  colour  the  raw  facts;  to  help  her  to  false 
ideas,  while  yet  not  plainly  stating  falsehoods  ?  Well, 
he  would  see  about  that;  he  would  also  see  about  avoid- 
ing the  girl.  He  saw  about  this  last  so  well,  that  the 
next  afternoon  beheld  him  on  his  way  to  visit  her. 

In  the  meantime  the  girl  had  gone  straight  home, 
light  as  a  bird,  tremulous  with  joy,  to  the  little  cottage 
where  she  lived  alone  with  a  maiden  aunt;  and  to  that 
lady,  a  grim,  sixty  years  old  Scotswoman,  with  a  nod- 
ding head,  communicated  news  of  her  encounter  and 
invitation. 

''A  friend  of  his.^"  cried  the  aunt.  ''What  like  is 
he  ?    What  did  he  say  was  his  name  ?  " 

She  was  dead  silent,  and  stared  at  the  old  woman 
darkling.  Then  very  slowly,  ' '  I  said  he  was  my  father's 
friend;  1  have  invited  him  to  my  house,  and  come  he 
shall,"  she  said;  and  with  that  she  walked  off  to  her 
room,  where  she  sat  staring  at  the  wall  all  the  evening. 
Miss  M'Glashan,  for  that  was  the  aunt's  name,  read  a 
large  bible  in  the  kitchen  with  some  of  the  joys  of  mar- 
tyrdom. 

It  was  perhaps  half-past  three  when  Dick  presented 
himself,  rather  scrupulously  dressed,  before  the  cottage 
door;  he  knocked,  and  a  voice  bade  him  enter.     The 

290 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

kitchen,  which  opened  directly  off  the  garden,  was 
somewhat  darkened  by  foliage;  but  he  could  see  her 
as  she  approached  from  the  far  end  to  meet  him.  This 
second  sight  of  her  surprised  him.  Her  strong  black 
brows  spoke  of  temper  easily  aroused  and  hard  to 
quiet ;  her  mouth  was  small,  nervous,  and  weak ;  there 
was  something  dangerous  and  sulky  underlying,  in  her 
nature,  much  that  was  honest,  compassionate  and  even 
noble. 

**My  father's  name,"  she  said,  *'has  made  you  very 
welcome." 

And  she  gave  him  her  hand  with  a  sort  of  curtsey. 
It  was  a  pretty  greeting,  although  somewhat  mannered ; 
and  Dick  felt  himself  among  the  gods.  She  led  him 
through  the  kitchen  to  a  parlour,  and  presented  him  to 
Miss  M'Glashan. 

"Esther,"  said  the  aunt,  ''see  and  make  Mr.  Naseby 
his  tea." 

As  soon  as  the  girl  was  gone  upon  this  hospitable  in- 
tent, the  old  woman  crossed  the  room  and  came  quite 
near  to  Dick  as  if  in  menace. 

"Ye  know  that  man?"  she  asked,  in  an  imperious 
whisper. 

"Mr.  Van  Tromp?"  said  Dick.  "Yes;  I  know 
him." 

"Well,  and  what  brings  ye  here?"  she  said.  "I 
couldn't  save  the  mother — her  that's  dead — but  the 
bairn!"  She  had  a  note  in  her  voice  that  filled  poor 
Dick  with  consternation.  "  Man, "  she  went  on,  "  what 
is  it  now  ?    Is  it  money  ?  " 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  Dick,  "I  think  you  misinter- 
pret my  position.     I  am  young  Mr.  Naseby  of  Naseby 

291 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

House.  My  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Van  Tromp  is  really 
very  slender;  I  am  only  afraid  that  Miss  Van  Tromp  has 
exaggerated  our  intimacy  in  her  own  imagination.  1 
know  positively  nothing  of  his  private  affairs,  and  do  not 
care  to  know.    I  met  him  casually  in  Paris  —  that  is  all. " 

Miss  M'GIashan  drew  a  long  breath.  **ln  Paris  .^" 
she  said.  **Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  him  ?  — 
what  do  ye  think  of  him?"  she  repeated,  with  a  dif- 
ferent scansion,  as  Richard,  who  had  not  much  taste 
for  such  a  question,  kept  her  waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  1  found  him  a  very  agreeable  companion,"  he  said. 

''  Ay,"  said  she,  **  did  ye!  And  how  does  he  win  his 
bread.?" 

"I  fancy,"  he  gasped,  "that  Mr.  Van  Tromp  has 
many  generous  friends." 

"I'll  warrant!"  she  sneered;  and  before  Dick  could 
find  more  to  say,  she  was  gone  from  the  room. 

Esther  returned  with  the  tea-things,  and  sat  down. 

"Now,"  she  said  cosily,  "tell  me  all  about  my 
father." 

"He"  —  stammered  Dick,  "he  is  a  very  agreeable 
companion." 

'  *  1  shall  begin  to  think  it  is  more  than  you  are,  Mr. 
Naseby,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh.  "I  am  his  daughter, 
you  forget.  Begin  at  the  beginning,  and  tell  me  all  you 
have  seen  of  him,  all  he  said  and  all  you  answered. 
You  must  have  met  somewhere;  begin  with  that." 

So  with  that  he  began :  how  he  had  found  the  Ad- 
miral painting  in  a  cafe ;  how  his  art  so  possessed,  him 
that  he  could  not  wait  till  he  got  home  to  —  well,  to 
dash  off  his  idea;  how  (this  in  reply  to  a  question)  his 
idea  consisted  of  a  cock  crowing  and  two  hens  eating 

292 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

corn;  how  he  was  fond  of  cocks  and  hens;  how  this 
did  not  lead  him  to  neglect  more  ambitious  forms  of  art ; 
how  he  had  a  picture  in  his  studio  of  a  Greek  subject 
which  was  said  to  be  remarkable  from  several  points  of 
view ;  how  no  one  had  seen  it  nor  knew  the  precise  site 
of  the  studio  in  which  it  was  being  vigorously  though 
secretly  confected ;  how  (in  answer  to  a  suggestion)  this 
shyness  was  common  to  the  Admiral,  Michelangelo,  and 
others ;  how  they  (Dick  and  Van  Tromp)  had  struck  up 
an  acquaintance  at  once,  and  dined  together  that  same 
night;  how  he  (the  Admiral)  had  once  given  money  to 
a  beggar;  how  he  spoke  with  effusion  of  his  little 
daughter;  how  he  had  once  borrowed  money  to  send 
her  a  doll  —  a  trait  worthy  of  Newton  —  she  being  then 
in  her  nineteenth  year  at  least;  how,  if  the  doll  never 
arrived  (which  it  appeared  it  never  did),  the  trait  was 
only  more  characteristic  of  the  highest  order  of  creative 
intellect;  how  he  was  —  no,  not  beautiful  —  striking, 
yes,  Dick  would  go  so  far,  decidedly  striking  in  appear- 
ance ;  how  his  boots  were  made  to  lace  and  his  coat  was 
black,  not  cutaway,  a  frock ;  and  so  on,  and  so  on  by  the 
yard.  It  was  astonishing  how  few  lies  were  necessary. 
After  all,  people  exaggerated  the  difficulty  of  life.  A 
little  steering,  just  a  touch  of  the  rudder  now  and  then, 
and  with  a  willing  listener  there  is  no  limit  to  the  do- 
main of  equivocal  speech.  Sometimes  Miss  M'Glashan 
made  a  freezing  sojourn  in  the  parlour;  and  then  the 
task  seemed  unaccountably  more  difficult;  but  to  Es- 
ther, who  was  all  eyes  and  ears,  her  face  alight  with  in- 
terest, his  stream  of  language  flowed  without  break  or 
stumble,  and  his  mind  was  ever  fertile  in  ingenious 

evasions  and 

293 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

What  an  afternoon  it  was  for  Esther! 

"  Ah!  "  she  cried  at  last,  '*it's  good  to  hear  all  this! 
My  aunt,  you  should  know,  is  narrow  and  too  religious ; 
she  cannot  understand  an  artist's  life.  It  does  not 
frighten  me,"  she  added  grandly;  *M  am  an  artist's 
daughter." 

With  that  speech,  Dick  consoled  himself  for  his  im- 
posture ;  she  was  not  deceived  so  grossly  after  all ;  and 
then,  if  a  fraud,  was  not  the  fraud  piety  itself.^ — and 
what  could  be  more  obligatory  than  to  keep  alive  in  the 
heart  of  a  daughter  that  filial  trust  and  honour  which, 
even  although  misplaced,  became  ner  like  a  jewel  of  the 
mind.?*  There  might  be  another  thought,  a  shade  of 
cowardice,  a  selfish  desire  to  please  ;  poor  Dick  was 
merely  human ;  and  what  would  you  have  had  him  do  ? 


294 


CHAPTER  IV 

ESTHER   ON   THE   FILIAL   RELATION 

A  MONTH  later  Dick  and  Esther  met  at  the  stile  beside 
the  cross  roads ;  had  there  been  any  one  to  see  them  but 
the  birds  and  summer  insects,  it  would  have  been  re- 
marked that  they  met  after  a  different  fashion  from  the 
day  before.  Dick  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  their  lips 
were  set  together  for  a  long  while.  Then  he  held  her 
at  arm's  length,  and  they  looked  straight  into  each  oth- 
er's eyes. 

"Esther! "  he  said, —  you  should  have  heard  his  voice. 

"Dick!"  said  she. 

"My  darling!" 

It  was  some  time  before  they  started  for  their  walk ; 
he  kept  an  arm  about  her,  and  their  sides  were  close  to- 
gether as  they  walked;  the  sun,  the  birds,  the  west 
wind  running  among  the  trees,  a  pressure,  a  look,  the 
grasp  tightening  round  a  single  finger,  these  things  stood 
them  in  lieu  of  thought  and  filled  their  hearts  with  joy. 
The  path  they  were  following  led  them  through  a  wood 
of  pine-trees  carpeted  with  heather  and  blueberry,  and 
upon  this  pleasant  carpet  Dick,  not  without  some  seri- 
ousness, made  her  sit  down. 

"Esther!  "  he  began,  "  there  is  something  you  ought 
to  know.     You  know  my  father  is  a  rich  man,  and  you 

295 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

would  think,  now  that  we  love  each  other,  we  might 
marry  when  we  pleased.  But  I  fear,  darling,  we  may- 
have  long  to  wait  and  shall  want  all  our  courage." 

*'  I  have  courage  for  anything,"  she  said,  **  I  have  all 
I  want;  with  you  and  my  father,  I  am  so  well  off,  and 
waiting  is  made  so  happy,  that  1  could  wait  a  lifetime 
and  not  weary." 

He  had  a  sharp  pang  at  the  mention  of  the  Admiral. 
"  Hear  me  out,"  he  continued.  *'  1  ought  to  have  told 
you  this  before ;  but  it  is  a  thought  I  shrink  from ;  if  it 
were  possible,  I  should  not  tell  you  even  now.  My 
poor  father  and  I  are  scarce  on  speaking  terms." 

"Your  father,"  she  repeated,  turning  pale. 

"  It  must  sound  strange  to  you ;  but  yet  I  cannot  think 
I  am  to  blame,"  he  said.  **  I  will  tell  you  how  it  hap- 
pened." 

"  O  Dick!  "  she  said,  when  she  had  heard  him  to  an 
end,  **How  brave  you  are,  and  how  proud!  Yet  I 
would  not  be  proud  with  a  father.  I  would  tell  him 
all." 

**  What!  "  cried  Dick,  *'  go  in  months  after,  and  brag 
that  I  had  meant  to  thrash  the  man,  and  then  didn't  ? 
And  why  ?  Because  my  father  had  made  a  bigger  ass 
of  himself  than  I  supposed.     My  dear,  that's  nonsense." 

She  winced  at  his  words  and  drew  away.  ' '  But  then 
that  is  all  he  asks,"  she  pleaded.  ''If  he  only  knew 
that  you  had  felt  that  impulse,  it  would  make  him  so 
proud  and  happy.  He  would  see  you  were  his  own 
son  after  all,  and  had  the  same  thoughts  and  the  same 
chivalry  of  spirit.  And  then  you  did  yourself  injus- 
tice when  you  spoke  just  now.  It  was  because  the 
editor  was  weak  and  poor  and  excused  himself,  that 

296 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

you  repented  your  first  determination.  Had  he  been  a 
big  red  man,  with  whiskers,  you  would  have  beaten 
him  —  you  know  you  would  —  if  Mr.  Naseby  had  been 
ten  times  more  committed.  Do  you  think,  if  you  can 
tell  it  to  me,  and  I  understand  at  once,  that  it  would  be 
more  difficult  to  tell  it  to  your  own  father,  or  that  he 
would  not  be  more  ready  to  sympathise  with  you  than 
I  am  ?  And  I  love  you,  Dick ;  but  then  he  is  your  father." 

'*My  dear,"  said  Dick  desperately,  **you  do  not  un- 
derstand; you  do  not  know  what  it  is  to  be  treated 
with  daily  want  of  comprehension  and  daily  small  in- 
justices, through  childhood  and  boyhood  and  manhood, 
until  you  despair  of  a  hearing,  until  the  thing  rides  you 
like  a  nightmare,  until  you  almost  hate  the  sight  of  the 
man  you  love,  and  who's  your  father  after  all.  In  short, 
Esther,  you  don't  know  what  it  is  to  have  a  father,  and 
that's  what  blinds  you." 

"I  see,"  she  said  musingly,  "you  mean  that  I  am 
fortunate  in  my  father.  But  I  am  not  so  fortunate  after 
all;  you  forget,  1  do  not  know  him;  it  is  you  who  know 
him;  he  is  already  more  your  father  than  mine."  And 
here  she  took  his  hand.  Dick's  heart  had  grown  as 
cold  as  ice.  "But  I  am  sorry  for  you,  too,"  she  con- 
tinued, "it  must  be  very  sad  and  lonely." 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  said  Dick  chokingly. 
"My  father  is  the  best  man  I  know  in  all  this  world; 
he  is  worth  a  hundred  of  me,  only  he  doesn't  under- 
stand me,  and  he  can't  be  made  to." 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  while.  "Dick,"  she  began 
again,  "I  am  going  to  ask  a  favour;  it's  the  first  time 
since  you  said  you  loved  me.  May  I  see  your  father — 
see  him  pass,  I  mean,  where  he  will  not  observe  me  ?  " 

297 


THE  STORY   OF  A   Lffi 

"Why?"  asked  Dick. 

**It  is  a  fancy;  you  forget,  I  am  romantic  about 
fathers." 

The  hint  was  enough  for  Dick;  he  consented  with 
haste,  and  full  of  hang-dog  penitence  and  disgust,  took 
her  down  by  a  back  way  and  planted  her  in  the  shrub- 
bery, whence  she  might  see  the  Squire  ride  by  to  dinner. 
There  they  both  sat  silent,  but  holding  hands,  for  nearly 
half  an  hour.  At  last  the  trotting  of  a  horse  sounded 
in  the  distance,  the  park  gates  opened  with  a  clang, 
and  then  Mr.  Naseby  appeared,  with  stooping  shoulders 
and  a  heavy,  bilious  countenance,  languidly  rising  to 
the  trot.  Esther  recognised  him  at  once ;  she  had  often 
seen  him  before,  though  with  her  huge  indifference  for 
all  that  lay  outside  the  circle  of  her  love,  she  had  never 
so  much  as  wondered  who  he  was ;  but  now  she  rec- 
ognised him,  and  found  him  ten  years  older,  leaden 
and  springless,  and  stamped  by  an  abiding  sorrow. 

"O  Dick,  Dick  !"  she  said,  and  the  tears  began  to 
shine  upon  her  face  as  she  hid  it  in  his  bosom ;  his  own 
fell  thickly,  too.  They  had  a  sad  walk  home,  and  that 
night,  full  of  love  and  good  counsel,  Dick  exerted  every 
art  to  please  his  father,  to  convince  him  of  his  respect 
and  affection,  to  heal  up  this  breach  of  kindness,  and 
reunite  two  hearts.  But  alas !  the  Squire  was  sick  and 
peevish ;  he  had  been  all  day  glooming  over  Dick's  es- 
trangement—  for  so  he  put  it  to  himself — and  now 
with  growls,  cold  words,  and  the  cold  shoulder,  he  beat 
off  all  advances,  and  entrenched  himself  in  a  just  re- 
sentment. 


298 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER  MAKES   HIS   DEBUT  AT   HOME 

That  took  place  upon  a  Thursday.  On  the  Thurs- 
day following,  as  Dick  was  walking  by  appointment, 
earlier  than  usual,  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage,  he 
was  appalled  to  meet  in  the  lane  a  fly  from  Thymebury, 
containing  the  human  form  of  Miss  M'Glashan.  The 
lady  did  not  deign  to  remark  him  in  her  passage;  her 
face  was  suffused  with  tears,  and  expressed  much  con- 
cern for  the  packages  by  which  she  was  surrounded. 
He  stood  still,  and  asked  himself  what  this  circumstance 
might  portend.  It  was  so  beautiful  a  day  that  he  was 
loth  to  forecast  evil,  yet  something  must  perforce  have 
happened  at  the  cottage,  and  that  of  a  decisive  nature ; 
for  here  was  Miss  M'Glashan  on  her  travels,  with  a 
small  patrimony  in  brown  paper  parcels,  and  the  old 
lady's  bearing  implied  hot  battle  and  unqualified  defeat. 
Was  the  house  to  be  closed  against  him  ?  Was  Esther 
left  alone,  or  had  some  new  protector  made  his  appear- 
ance from  among  the  millions  of  Europe  ?  It  is  the 
character  of  love  to  loathe  the  near  relatives  of  the  loved 
one ;  chapters  in  the  history  of  the  human  race  have 
justified  this  feeling,  and  the  conduct  of  uncles,  in  par- 
ticular, has  frequently  met  with  censure  from  the  inde- 
pendent novelist.     Miss  M'Glashan  was  now  seen  in 

299 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

the  rosy  colours  of  regret;  whoever  succeeded  her, 
Dick  felt  the  change  would  be  for  the  worse.  He  hur- 
ried forward  in  this  spirit;  his  anxiety  grew  upon  him 
with  every  step ;  as  he  entered  the  garden  a  voice  fell 
upon  his  ear,  and  he  was  once  more  arrested,  not  this 
time  by  doubt,  but  by  an  indubitable  certainty  of  ill. 

The  thunderbolt  had  fallen ;  the  Admiral  was  here. 

Dick  would  have  retreated,  in  the  panic  terror  of  the 
moment;  but  Esther  kept  a  bright  look-out  when  her 
lover  was  expected.  In  a  twinkling  she  was  by  his 
side,  brimful  of  news  and  pleasure,  too  glad  to  notice 
his  embarrassment,  and  in  one  of  those  golden  trans- 
ports of  exultation  which  transcend  not  only  words  but 
caresses.  She  took  him  by  the  end  of  the  fingers 
(reaching  forward  to  take  them,  for  her  great  preoccu- 
pation was  to  save  time),  she  drew  him  towards  her, 
pushed  him  past  her  in  the  door,  and  planted  him  face 
to  face  with  Mr.  Van  Tromp,  in  a  suit  of  French  country 
velveteens  and  with  a  remarkable  carbuncle  on  his  nose. 
Then,  as  though  this  was  the  end  of  what  she  could 
endure  in  the  way  of  joy,  Esther  turned  and  ran  out  of 
the  room. 

The  two  men  remained  looking  at  each  other  with  some 
confusion  on  both  sides.  Van  Tromp  was  naturally  the 
first  to  recover ;  he  put  out  his  hand  with  a  fine  gesture. 

'*  And  you  know  my  little  lass,  my  Esther  ?"  he  said. 
'*This  is  pleasant,  this  is  what  I  have  conceived  of 
home.  A  strange  word  for  the  old  rover;  but  we  all 
have  a  taste  for  home  and  the  homelike,  disguise  it  how 
we  may.  It  has  brought  me  here,  Mr.  Naseby,"  he  con- 
cluded, with  an  intonation  that  would  have  made  his 
fortune  on  the  stage,  so  just,  so  sad,  so  dignified,  so 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

like  a  man  of  the  world  and  a  philosopher,  ''  and  you  see 
a  man  who  is  content." 

**I  see,"  said  Dick. 

*'Sit  down,"  continued  the  parasite,  setting  the  ex- 
ample. '*  Fortune  has  gone  against  me.  (I  am  just 
sirrupping  a  little  brandy  —  after  my  journey.)  I  was 
going  down,  Mr.  Naseby ;  between  you  and  me  I  was 
decave ;  I  borrowed  fifty  francs,  smuggled  my  valise 
past  the  concierge — a  work  of  considerable  tact — and 
here  I  am! " 

"Yes,"  said  Dick;  "and  here  you  are."  He  was 
quite  idiotic. 

Esther  at  this  moment  re-entered  the  room. 

"Are  you  glad  to  see  him?"  she  whispered  in  his 
ear,  the  pleasure  in  her  voice  almost  bursting  through 
the  whisper  into  song. 

• '  Oh  yes, "  said  Dick ;  ' '  very ! " 

"I  knew  you  would  be,"  she  replied;  "I  told  him 
how  you  loved  him." 

"Help  yourself,"  said  the  Admiral,  "help  yourself; 
and  let  us  drink  to  a  new  existence." 

"To  a  new  existence,"  repeated  Dick;  and  he  raised 
the  tumbler  to  his  lips,  but  set  it  down  untasted.  He 
had  had  enough  of  novelties  for  one  day. 

Esther  was  sitting  on  a  stool  beside  her  father's  feet, 
holding  her  knees  in  her  arms,  and  looking  with  pride 
from  one  to  the  other  of  her  two  visitors.  Her  eyes 
were  so  bright  that  you  were  never  sure  if  there  were 
tears  in  them  or  not ;  little  voluptuous  shivers  ran  about 
her  body;  sometimes  she  nestled  her  chin  into  her 
throat,  sometimes  threw  back  her  head  with  ecstasy; 
in  a  word,  she  was  in  that  state  when  it  is  said  of  people 

301 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

that  they  cannot  contain  themselves  for  happiness.  It 
would  be  hard  to  exaggerate  the  agony  of  Richard. 

And,  in  the  meantime,  Van  Tromp  ran  on  intermi- 
nably. 

* '  I  never  forget  a  friend, "  said  he,  '  *  nor  yet  an  enemy : 
of  the  latter  I  never  had  but  two  —  myself  and  the  pub- 
lic ;  and  I  fancy  I  have  had  my  vengeance  pretty  freely 
out  of  both. "  He  chuckled.  '  *  But  those  days  are  done. 
Van  Tromp  is  no  more.  He  was  a  man  who  had  suc- 
cesses,—  I  believe  you  know  1  had  successes, — to  which 
we  shall  refer  no  further,"  pulling  down  his  neckcloth 
with  a  smile.  "That  man  exists  no  more :  by  an  exer- 
cise of  will  I  have  destroyed  him.  There  is  something 
like  it  in  the  poets.  First,  a  brilliant  and  conspicuous 
career  —  the  observed,  I  may  say,  of  all  observers,  in- 
cluding the  bum-baily :  and  then,  presto !  a  quiet,  sly, 
old,  rustic  bonhomme,  cultivating  roses.  In  Paris,  Mr. 
Naseby " 

**  Call  him  Richard,  father,"  said  Esther. 

"Richard,  if  he  will  allow  me.  Indeed,  we  are  old 
friends,  and  now  near  neighbours ;  and,  d  propos,  how 
are  we  off  for  neighbours,  Richard  }  The  cottage  stands, 
1  think,  upon  your  father's  land,  a  family  which  1  re- 
spect — and  the  wood,  I  understand,  is  Lord  Trevanion's. 
Not  that  I  care ;  I  am  an  old  Bohemian.  1  have  cut  so- 
ciety with  a  cut  direct ;  I  cut  it  when  I  was  prosperous, 
and  now  I  reap  my  reward,  and  can  cut  it  with  dignity 
in  my  declension.  These  are  our  little  amours  propres, 
my  daughter;  your  father  must  respect  himself.  Thank 
you,  yes ;  just  a  leetle,  leetle,  tiny  —  thanks,  thanks ;  you 
spoil  me.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  Richard,  or  was  about 
to  say,  my  daughter  has  been  allowed  to  rust ;  her  aunt 

302 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

was  a  mere  duenna ;  hence,  in  parenthesis,  Richard,  her 
distrust  of  me ;  my  nature  and  that  of  the  duenna  are 
poles  asunder  —  poles!  But,  now  that  I  am  here,  now 
that  I  have  given  up  the  fight,  and  live  henceforth  for 
one  only  of  my  works  —  I  have  the  modesty  to  say  it  is 
my  best  —  my  daughter  —  well,  we  shall  put  all  that  to 
rights.     The  neighbours,  Richard  ?  " 

Dick  was  understood  to  say  that  there  were  many 
good  families  in  the  Vale  of  Thyme. 

*' You  shall  introduce  us,"  said  the  Admiral. 

Dick's  shirt  was  wet;  he  made  a  lumbering  excuse  to 
go ;  which  Esther  explained  to  herself  by  a  fear  of  in- 
trusion, and  so  set  down  to  the  merit  side  of  Dick's  ac- 
count, while  she  proceeded  to  detain  him. 

"Before  our  walk.?^"  she  cried.  "Never!  I  must 
have  my  walk." 

"Let  us  all  go,"  said  the  Admiral,  rising. 

"  You  do  not  know  that  you  are  wanted,"  she  cried, 
leaning  on  his  shoulder  with  a  caress.  "  I  might  wish 
to  speak  to  my  old  friend  about  my  new  father.  But 
you  shall  come  to-day,  you  shall  do  all  you  want;  I 
have  set  my  heart  on  spoiling  you." 

"I  will  take  just  one  drop  more,"  said  the  Admiral, 
stooping  to  help  himself  to  brandy.  "It  is  surprising 
how  this  journey  has  fatigued  me.  But  I  am  growing 
old,  I  am  growing  old,  I  am  growing  old,  and  —  I  re- 
gret to  add— bald." 

He  cocked  a  white  wide-awake  coquettishly  upon  his 
head  —  the  habit  of  the  lady-killer  clung  to  him ;  and 
Esther  had  already  thrown  on  her  hat,  and  was  ready, 
while  he  was  still  studying  the  result  in  a  mirror:  the 
carbuncle  had  somewhat  painfully  arrested  his  attention. 

303 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

''We  are  papa  now;  we  must  be  respectable,"  he 
said  to  Dick,  in  explanation  of  his  dandyism :  and  then 
he  went  to  a  bundle  and  chose  himself  a  staff.  Where 
were  the  elegant  canes  of  his  Parisian  epoch  ?  This 
was  a  support  for  age,  and  designed  for  rustic  scenes. 
Dick  began  to  see  and  appreciate  the  man's  enjoyment 
in  a  new  part,  when  he  saw  how  carefully  he  had 
**made  it  up."  He  had  invented  a  gait  for  this  first 
country  stroll  with  his  daughter,  which  was  admirably 
in  key.  He  walked  with  fatigue;  he  leaned  upon  the 
staff;  he  looked  round  him  with  a  sad,  smiling  sym- 
pathy on  all  that  he  beheld ;  he  even  asked  the  name  of 
a  plant,  and  rallied  himself  gently  for  an  old  town-bird, 
ignorant  of  nature.  ''This  country  life  will  make  me 
young  again,"  he  sighed.  They  reached  the  top  of  the 
hill  towards  the  first  hour  of  evening ;  the  sun  was  de- 
scending heaven,  the  colour  had  all  drawn  into  the  west; 
the  hills  were  modelled  in  their  least  contour  by  the  soft, 
slanting  shine;  and  the  wide  moorlands,  veined  with 
glens  and  hazel  woods,  ran  west  and  north  in  a  hazy  glory 
of  light.     Then  the  painter  awakened  in  Van  Tromp. 

"Gad,  Dick,"  he  cried,  "what  value!" 

An  ode  in  four  hundred  lines  would  not  have  seemed 
so  touching  to  Esther ;  her  eyes  filled  with  happy  tears ; 
yes,  here  was  the  father  of  whom  she  had  dreamed, 
whom  Dick  had  described;  simple,  enthusiastic,  un- 
worldly, kind,  a  painter  at  heart,  and  a  fine  gentleman 
in  manner. 

And  just  then  the  Admiral  perceived  a  house  by  the 
wayside,  and  something  depending  over  the  house  door 
which  might  be  construed  as  a  sign  by  the  hopeful  and 
thirsty. 

304 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

*'Is  that,"  he  asked,  pointing  with  his  stick,  *'an  inn  ?" 

There  was  a  marked  change  in  his  voice,  as  though 
he  attached  some  importance  to  the  inquiry:  Esther 
listened,  hoping  she  should  hear  wit  or  wisdom. 

Dick  said  it  was. 

"You  know  it  ?"  inquired  the  Admiral. 

"I  have  passed  it  a  hundred  times,  but  that  is  all," 
replied  Dick. 

**Ah,"  said  Van  Tromp,  with  a  smile  and  shaking 
his  head;  ''you  are  not  an  old  campaigner;  you  have 
the  world  to  learn.  Now  I,  you  see,  find  an  inn  so 
very  near  my  own  home,  and  my  first  thought  is  —  my 
neighbours.  I  shall  go  forward  and  make  my  neigh- 
bour's acquaintance;  no,  you  needn't  come;  I  shall  not 
be  a  moment." 

And  he  walked  off  briskly  towards  the  inn,  leaving 
Dick  alone  with  Esther  on  the  road. 

**  Dick,"  she  exclaimed,  *'  I  am  so  glad  to  get  a  word 
with  you;  I  am  so  happy,  I  have  such  a  thousand  things 
to  say;  and  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favour.  Imagine, 
he  has  come  without  a  paint-box,  without  an  easel; 
and  1  want  him  to  have  all.  I  want  you  to  get  them 
for  me  in  Thymebury.  You  saw,  this  moment,  how  his 
heart  turned  to  painting.  They  can't  live  without  it,  "  she 
added ;  meaning  perhaps  Van  Tromp  and  Michelangelo. 

Up  to  that  moment  she  had  observed  nothing  amiss 
in  Dick's  behaviour.  She  was  too  happy  to  be  curious ; 
and  his  silence,  in  presence  of  the  great  and  good  being 
whom  she  called  her  father,  had  seemed  both  natural 
and  praiseworthy.  But  now  that  they  were  alone,  she 
became  conscious  of  a  barrier  between  her  lover  and 
herself,  and  alarm  sprang  up  in  her  heart. 

305 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

"Dick,"  she  cried,  ''you  don't  love  me." 

''  I  do  that,"  he  said  heartily. 

*' But  you  are  unhappy;  you  are  strange;  you  —  you 
are  not  glad  to  see  my  father,"  she  concluded,  with  a 
break  in  her  voice. 

**  Esther,"  he  said,  "  I  tell  you  that  I  love  you;  if  you 
love  me,  you  know  what  that  means,  and  that  all  I  wish 
is  to  see  you  happy.  Do  you  think  I  cannot  enjoy  your 
pleasure  ?  Esther,  I  do.  If  1  am  uneasy,  if  I  am  alarmed, 
if — Oh,  believe  me,  try  and  believe  in  me,"  he  cried, 
giving  up  argument  with  perhaps  a  happy  inspiration. 

But  the  girl's  suspicions  were  aroused ;  and  although 
she  pressed  the  matter  no  further  (indeed  her  father  was 
already  seen  returning),  it  by  no  means  left  her  thoughts. 
At  one  moment  she  simply  resented  the  selfishness 
of  a  man  who  had  obtruded  his  dark  looks  and  pas- 
sionate language  on  her  joy ;  for  there  is  nothing  that  a 
woman  can  less  easily  forgive  than  the  language  of  a 
passion  which,  even  if  only  for  the  moment,  she  does 
not  share.  At  another,  she  suspected  him  of  jealousy 
against  her  father;  and  for  that,  although  she  could  see 
excuses  for  it,  she  yet  despised  him.  And  at  least,  in 
one  way  or  the  other,  here  was  the  dangerous  begin- 
ning of  a  separation  between  two  hearts.  Esther  found 
herself  at  variance  with  her  sweetest  friend ;  she  could 
no  longer  look  into  his  heart  and  find  it  written  in  the 
same  language  as  her  own;  she  could  no  longer  think 
of  him  as  the  sun  which  radiated  happiness  upon  her 
life,  for  she  had  turned  to  him  once,  and  he  had  breathed 
upon  her  black  and  chilly,  radiated  blackness  and  frost. 
To  put  the  whole  matter  in  a  word,  she  was  beginning, 
although  ever  so  slightly,  to  fall  out  of  love. 

306 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  PRODIGAL  FATHER  GOES  ON  FROM  STRENGTH 
TO  STRENGTH 

We  will  not  follow  all  the  steps  of  the  Admiral's  re- 
turn and  installation,  but  hurry  forward  towards  the 
catastrophe,  merely  chronicling  by  the  way  a  few  sali- 
ent incidents,  wherein  we  must  rely  entirely  upon  the 
evidence  of  Richard,  for  Esther  to  this  day  has  never 
opened  her  mouth  upon  this  trying  passage  of  her  life, 
and  as  for  the  Admiral — well,  that  naval  officer,  though 
still  alive,  and  now  more  suitably  installed  in  a  seaport 
town  where  he  has  a  telescope  and  a  flag  in  his  front 
garden,  is  incapable  of  throwing  the  slightest  gleam  of 
light  upon  the  affair.  Often  and  often  has  he  remarked 
to  the  present  writer:  *'  If  I  know  what  it  was  all  about, 

sir,  I'll  be "  in  short,  be  what  1  hope  he  will  not. 

And  then  he  will  look  across  at  his  daughter's  portrait, 
a  photograph,  shake  his  head  with  an  amused  appear- 
ance, and  mix  himself  another  grog  by  way  of  consola- 
tion. Once  I  have  heard  him  go  further,  and  express 
his  feelings  with  regard  to  Esther  in  a  single  but  elo- 
quent word.  **A  minx,  sir,"  he  said,  not  in  anger, 
rather  in  amusement;  and  he  cordially  drank  her  health 
upon  the  back  of  it.  His  worst  enemy  must  admit  him 
to  be  a  man  without  malice ;  he  never  bore  a  grudge  in 
his  life,  lacking  the  necessary  taste  and  industry  of  at- 
tention. 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

Yet  it  was  during  this  obscure  period  that  the  drama 
was  really  performed;  and  its  scene  was  in  the  heart  of 
Esther,  shut  away  from  all  eyes.  Had  this  warm,  up- 
right, sullen  girl  been  differently  used  by  destiny,  had 
events  come  upon  her  even  in  a  different  succession,  for 
some  things  lead  easily  to  others,  the  whole  course  of 
this  tale  would  have  been  changed,  and  Esther  never 
would  have  run  away.  As  it  was,  through  a  series  of 
acts  and  words  of  which  we  know  but  few,  and  a  series 
of  thoughts  which  any  one  may  imagine  for  himself, 
she  was  awakened  in  four  days  from  the  dream  of  a  life. 

The  first  tangible  cause  of  disenchantment  was  when 
Dick  brought  home  a  painter's  arsenal  on  Friday  even- 
ing. The  Admiral  was  in  the  chimney-corner,  once 
more  "sirrupping"  some  bran dy-and- water,  and  Esther 
sat  at  the  table  at  work.  They  both  came  forward  to 
greet  the  new  arrival ;  and  the  girl,  relieving  him  of  his 
monstrous  burthen,  proceeded  to  display  her  offerings  to 
her  father.  Van  Tromp's  countenance  fell  several  de- 
grees ;  he  became  quite  querulous. 

**God  bless  me,"  he  said;  and  then,  "I  must  really 
ask  you  not  to  interfere,  child,"  in  a  tone  of  undisguised 
hostility. 

"Father,"  she  said,  ''forgive  me;  I  knew  you  had 
given  up  your  art " 

'*  Oh,  yes,"  cried  the  Admiral;  *'  I've  done  with  it  to 
the  judgment  day! " 

''Pardon  me  again,"  she  said  firmly,  "but  1  do  not, 
I  cannot  think  that  you  are  right  in  this.  Suppose  the 
world  is  unjust,  suppose  that  no  one  understands  you, 
you  have  still  a  duty  to  yourself.  And  oh,  don't  spoil  the 
pleasure  of  your  coming  home  to  me;  show  me  that  you 

508 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

can  be  my  father  and  yet  not  neglect  your  destiny.  I  am 
not  like  some  daughters ;  I  will  not  be  jealous  of  your  art, 
and  I  will  try  to  understand  it." 

The  situation  was  odiously  farcical.  Richard  groaned 
under  it;  he  longed  to  leap  forward  and  denounce  the 
humbug.  And  the  humbug  himself.?  Do  you  fancy  he 
was  easier  in  his  mind  ?  I  am  sure,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  he  was  actually  miserable ;  and  he  betrayed  his  suf- 
ferings by  a  perfectly  silly  and  undignified  access  of 
temper,  during  which  he  broke  his  pipe  in  several 
places,  threw  his  brandy-and-water  in  the  fire,  and  em- 
ployed words  which  were  very  plain  although  the  drift 
of  them  was  somewhat  vague.  It  was  of  very  brief 
duration.  Van  Tromp  was  himself  again,  and  in  a 
most  delightful  humour  within  three  minutes  of  the  first 
explosion. 

**  I  am  an  old  fool,"  he  said  frankly.  "  I  was  spoiled 
when  a  child.  As  for  you,  Esther,  you  take  after  your 
mother;  you  have  a  morbid  sense  of  duty,  particularly 
for  others;  strive  against  it,  my  dear  —  strive  against 
it.  And  as  for  the  pigments,  well,  I'll  use  them  some  of 
these  days;  and  to  show  that  I'm  in  earnest,  I'll  get  Dick 
here  to  prepare  a  canvas." 

Dick  was  put  to  this  menial  task  forthwith,  the  Ad- 
miral not  even  watching  how  he  did,  but  quite  occu- 
pied with  another  grog  and  a  pleasant  vein  of  talk. 

A  little  after  Esther  arose,  and  making  some  pretext, 
good  or  bad,  went  off  to  bed.  Dick  was  left  hobbled 
by  the  canvas,  and  was  subjected  to  Van  Tromp  for 
about  an  hour. 

The  next  day,  Saturday,  it  is  believed  that  little  inter- 
course took  place  between  Esther  and  her  father;  but 

309 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

towards  the  afternoon  Dick  met  the  latter  returning  from 
the  direction  of  the  inn,  where  he  had  struck  up  quite 
a  friendship  with  the  landlord.  Dick  wondered  who 
paid  for  these  excursions,  and  at  the  thought  that  the 
reprobate  must  get  his  pocket-money  where  he  got  his 
board  and  lodging,  from  poor  Esther's  generosity,  he  had 
it  almost  in  his  heart  to  knock  the  old  gentleman  down. 
He,  on  his  part,  was  full  of  airs  and  graces  and  geniality. 

*'  Dear  Dick,"  he  said,  taking  his  arm,  ''this  is  neigh- 
bourly of  you ;  it  shows  your  tact  to  meet  me  when  I 
had  a  wish  for  you.  I  am  in  pleasant  spirits ;  and  it  is 
then  that  I  desire  a  friend." 

'M  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  so  happy,"  retorted 
Dick  bitterly.  ''There's  certainly  not  much  to  trouble 
you." 

"No,"  assented  the  Admiral,  "not  much.  I  got  out 
of  it  in  time;  and  here  —  well,  here  everything  pleases 
me.  I  am  plain  in  my  tastes.  A  propos,  you  have 
never  asked  me  how  I  liked  my  daughter." 

"No,"  said  Dick  roundly;  "  I  certainly  have  not." 

"Meaning  you  will  not.  And  why,  Dick?  She  is 
my  daughter,  of  course;  but  then  I  am  a  man  of  the 
world  and  a  man  of  taste,  and  perfectly  qualified  to  give 
an  opinion  with  impartiality  —  yes,  Dick,  with  impar- 
tiality. Frankly,  I  am  not  disappointed  in  her.  She 
has  good  looks ;  she  has  them  from  her  mother.  She 
is  devoted,  quite  devoted  to  me " 

"She  is  the  best  woman  in  the  world!"  broke  out 
Dick. 

"Dick,"  cried  the  Admiral,  stopping  short;  "I  have 
been  expecting  this.  Let  us  —  let  us  go  back  to  the 
Trevanion  Arms,  and  talk  this  matter  out  over  a  bottle. " 

310 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

** Certainly  not,"  said  Dick.  "  You  have  had  far  too 
much  already." 

The  parasite  was  on  the  point  of  resenting  this ;  but 
a  look  at  Dick's  face,  and  some  recollections  of  the  terms 
on  which  they  had  stood  in  Paris,  came  to  the  aid  of 
his  wisdom  and  restrained  him. 

*' As  you  please,"  he  said;  ''although  I  don't  know 
what  you  mean  —  nor  care.  But  let  us  walk,  if  you 
prefer  it.  You  are  still  a  young  man ;  when  you  are  my 
age —  But,  however,  to  continue.  You  please  me, 
Dick ;  you  have  pleased  me  from  the  first ;  and  to  say 
truth,  Esther  is  a  trifle  fantastic,  and  will  be  better  when 
she  is  married.  She  has  means  of  her  own,  as  of  course 
you  are  aware.  They  come,  like  the  looks,  from  her 
poor,  dear,  good  creature  of  a  mother.  She  was  blessed 
in  her  mother.  I  mean  she  shall  be  blessed  in  her  hus- 
band, and  you  are  the  man,  Dick,  you  and  not  another. 
This  very  night  I  will  sound  her  affections." 

Dick  stood  aghast. 

'*Mr.  Van  Tromp,  I  implore  you,"  he  said;  ''do 
what  you  please  with  yourself,  but,  for  God's  sake  let 
your  daughter  alone." 

"  It  is  my  duty,"  replied  the  Admiral,  "  and  between 
ourselves,  you  rogue,  my  inclination  too.  I  am  as 
matchmaking  as  a  dowager.  It  will  be  more  discreet 
for  you  to  stay  away  to-night.  Farewell.  You  leave 
your  case  in  good  hands ;  I  have  the  tact  of  these  little 
matters  by  heart;  it  is  not  my  first  attempt." 

AH  arguments  were  in  vain;  the  old  rascal  stuck  to 
his  point;  nor  did  Richard  conceal  from  himself  how 
seriously  this  might  injure  his  prospects,  and  he  fought 
hard.     Once  there  came  a  glimmer  of  hope.     The  Ad- 

3<» 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

miral  again  proposed  an  adjournment  to  the  '*Trevanion 
Arms,"  and  when  Dick  had  once  more  refused,  it  hung 
for  a  moment  in  the  balance  whether  or  not  the  old  to- 
per would  return  there  by  himself.  Had  he  done  so, 
ofcourse  Dick  could  have  taken  to  his  heels,  and  warned 
Esther  of  what  was  coming,  and  of  how  it  had  begun. 
But  the  Admiral,  after  a  pause,  decided  for  the  brandy 
at  home,  and  made  off  in  that  direction. 

We  have  no  details  of  the  sounding. 

Next  day  the  Admiral  was  observed  in  the  parish 
church,  very  properly  dressed.  He  found  the  places,  and 
joined  in  response  and  hymn,  as  to  the  manner  born; 
and  his  appearance,  as  he  intended  it  should,  attracted 
some  attention  among  the  worshippers.  Old  Naseby, 
for  instance,  had  observed  him. 

'*  There  was  a  drunken-looking  blackguard  opposite 
us  in  church,"  he  said  to  his  son  as  they  drove  home; 
'*  do  you  know  who  he  was  ?  " 

'*Some  fellow  —  Van  Tromp,  I  believe,"  said  Dick. 

'*  A  foreigner  too!  "  observed  the  Squire. 

Dick  could  not  sufficiently  congratulate  himself  on 
the  escape  he  had  effected.  Had  the  Admiral  met  him 
with  his  father,  what  would  have  been  the  result.?  And 
could  such  a  catastrophe  be  long  postponed  ?  It  seemed 
to  him  as  if  the  storm  were  nearly  ripe;  and  it  was  so 
more  nearly  than  he  thought. 

He  did  not  go  to  the  cottage  in  the  afternoon,  with- 
held by  fear  and  shame ;  but  when  dinner  was  over  at 
Naseby  House,  and  the  Squire  had  gone  off  into  a  com- 
fortable doze,  Dick  slipped  out  of  the  room,  and  ran 
across  country,  in  part  to  save  time,  in  part  to  save  his 
own  courage  from  growing  cold ;  for  he  now  hated  the 

3«2 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

notion  of  the  cottage  or  the  Admiral,  and  if  he  did  not 
hate,  at  least  feared  to  think  of  Esther.  He  had  no  clue 
to  her  reflections;  but  he  could  not  conceal  from  his 
own  heart  that  he  must  have  sunk  in  her  esteem,  and 
the  spectacle  of  her  infatuation  galled  him  like  an  in- 
sult. 

He  knocked  and  was  admitted.  The  room  looked 
very  much  as  on  his  last  visit,  with  Esther  at  the  table 
and  Van  Tromp  beside  the  fire ;  but  the  expression  of 
the  two  faces  told  a  very  different  story.  The  girl  was 
paler  than  usual;  her  eyes  were  dark,  the  colour  seemed 
to  have  faded  from  round  them,  and  her  swiftest  glance 
was  as  intent  as  a  stare.  The  appearance  of  the  Ad- 
miral, on  the  other  hand,  was  rosy,  and  flabby,  and 
moist;  his  jowl  hung  over  his  shirt  collar,  his  smile 
was  loose  and  wandering,  and  he  had  so  far  relaxed  the 
natural  control  of  his  eyes,  that  one  of  them  was  aimed 
inward,  as  if  to  catch  the  growth  of  the  carbuncle.  We 
are  warned  against  bad  judgments;  but  the  Admiral 
was  certainly  not  sober.  He  made  no  attempt  to  rise 
when  'Richard  entered,  but  waved  his  pipe  flightily  in 
the  air,  and  gave  a  leer  of  welcome.  Esther  took  as  lit- 
tle notice  of  him  as  might  be. 

"Aha!  Dick!"  cried  the  painter.  "I've  been  to 
church ;  I  have,  upon  my  word.  And  I  saw  you  there, 
though  you  didn't  see  me.  And  I  saw  a  devilish  pretty 
woman,  by  Gad.  If  it  were  not  for  this  baldness,  and 
a  kind  of  crapulous  air  I  can't  disguise  from  myself — if 
it  weren't  for  this  and  that  and  t'other  thing  —  I  —  I've 
forgot  what  I  was  saying.  Not  that  that  matters,  I've 
heaps  of  things  to  say.  I'm  in  a  communicative  vein 
to-night.     I'll  let  out  all  my  cats,  even  unto  seventy 

3«3 


THE   STORY   OF   A   LIE 

times  seven.  Tm  in  what  I  call  the  stage,  and  all  I  de- 
sire is  a  listener,  although  he  were  deaf,  to  be  as  happy 
as  Nebuchadnezzar." 

Of  the  two  hours  which  followed  upon  this  it  is  unne- 
cessary to  give  more  than  a  sketch.  The  Admiral  was 
extremely  silly,  now  and  then  amusing,  and  never  really 
offensive.  It  was  plain  that  he  kept  in  view  the  pres- 
ence of  his  daughter,  and  chose  subjects  and  a  charac- 
ter of  language  that  should  not  offend  a  lady.  On 
almost  any  other  occasion  Dick  would  have  enjoyed 
the  scene.  Van  Tromp's  egotism,  flown  with  drink, 
struck  a  pitch  above  mere  vanity.  He  became  can- 
did and  explanatory;  sought  to  take  his  auditors  en- 
tirely into  his  confidence,  and  tell  them  his  inmost  con- 
viction about  himself.  Between  his  self-knowledge, 
which  was  considerable,  and  his  vanity,  which  was 
immense,  he  had  created  a  strange  hybrid  animal,  and 
called  it  by  his  own  name.  How  he  would  plume  his 
feathers  over  virtues  which  would  have  gladdened  the 
heart  of  Caesar  or  St.  Paul;  and  anon,  complete  his  own 
portrait  with  one  of  those  touches  of  pitiless  realism 
which  the  satirist  so  often  seeks  in  vain. 

*'  Now,  there's  Dick,"  he  said,  '*  he's  shrewd;  he  saw 
through  me  the  first  time  we  met,  and  told  me  so  —  told 
me  so  to  my  face,  which  I  had  the  virtue  to  keep.  I 
bear  you  no  malice  for  it,  Dick;  you  were  right;  I  am  a 
humbug." 

You  may  fancy  how  Esther  quailed  at  this  new  fea- 
ture of  the  meeting  between  her  two  idols. 

And  then,  again,  in  a  parenthesis : 

*'  That,"  said  Van  Tromp,  **  was  when  I  had  to  paint 
those  dirty  daubs  of  mine. " 

314 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

And  a  little  further  on,  laughingly  said,  perhaps,  but 
yet  with  an  air  of  truth : 

"  I  never  had  the  slightest  hesitation  in  sponging  upon 
any  human  creature." 

Thereupon  Dick  got  up. 

'*!  think,  perhaps,"  he  said,  ''we  had  better  all  be 
thinking  of  going  to  bed. "  And  he  smiled  with  a  feeble 
and  deprecatory  smile. 

"Not  at  all,"  cried  the  Admiral,  ''I  know  a  trick 
worth  two  of  that.  Puss  here,"  indicating  his  daugh- 
ter, ** shall  go  to  bed;  and  you  and  I  will  keep  it  up  till 
all's  blue." 

Thereupon  Esther  arose  in  sullen  glory.  She  had  sat 
and  listened  for  two  mortal  hours  while  her  idol  defiled 
himself  and  sneered  away  his  godhead.  One  by  one, 
her  illusions  had  departed ;  and  now  he  wished  to  order 
her  to  bed  in  her  own  house!  now  he  called  her  Puss! 
now,  even  as  he  uttered  the  words,  toppling  on  his 
chair,  he  broke  the  stem  of  his  tobacco  pipe  in  three ! 
Never  did  the  sheep  turn  upon  her  shearer  with  a  more 
commanding  front.  Her  voice  was  calm,  her  enuncia- 
tion a  little  slow,  but  perfectly  distinct,  and  she  stood 
before  him,  as  she  spoke,  in  the  simplest  and  most 
maidenly  attitude. 

*'  No,"  she  said,  **  Mr.  Naseby  will  have  the  goodness 
to  go  home  at  once,  and  you  will  go  to  bed." 

The  broken  fragments  of  pipe  fell  from  the  Admiral's 
fingers ;  he  seemed  by  his  countenance  to  have  lived  too 
long  in  a  world  unworthy  of  him ;  but  it  is  an  odd  cir- 
cumstance, he  attempted  no  reply,  and  sat  thunder- 
struck, with  open  mouth. 

Dick  she  motioned  sharply  towards  the  door,  and  he 
315 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

could  only  obey  her.  In  the  porch,  finding  she  was 
close  behind  him,  he  ventured  to  pause  and  whisper, 
'*  You  have  done  right." 

"I  have  done  as  I  pleased,"  she  said.  '*Can  he 
paint  ?  " 

"  Many  people  like  his  paintings,"  returned  Dick,  in 
stifled  tones;  ''I  never  did;  I  never  said  I  did,"  he 
added,  fiercely  defending  himself  before  he  was  at- 
tacked. 

"  I  ask  you  if  he  can  paint.  I  will  not  be  put  off.  Can 
he  paint  ?  "  she  repeated. 

'*No,"  said  Dick. 

**  Does  he  even  like  it  ?  " 

''Not  now,  I  believe." 

"And  he  is  drunk?"  —  she  leaned  upon  the  word 
with  hatred. 

"He  has  been  drinking." 

"Go,"  she  said,  and  was  turning  to  re-enter  the 
house  when  another  thought  arrested  her.  "  Meet  me 
to-morrow  morning  at  the  stile,"  she  said. 

"I  will,"  replied  Dick. 

And  then  the  door  closed  behind  her,  and  Dick  was 
alone  in  the  darkness.  There  was  still  a  chink  of  light 
above  the  sill,  a  warm,  mild  glow  behind  the  window; 
the  roof  of  the  cottage  and  some  of  the  banks  and  hazels 
were  defined  in  denser  darkness  against  the  sky ;  but  all 
else  was  formless,  breathless  and  noiseless  like  the  pit. 
Dick  remained  as  she  had  left  him,  standing  squarely  on 
one  foot  and  resting  only  on  the  toe  of  the  other,  and  as 
he  stood  he  listened  with  his  soul.  The  sound  of  a  chair 
pushed  sharply  over  the  floor  startled  his  heart  into  his 
mouth ;  but  the  silence  which  had  thus  been  disturbed 

316 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

settled  back  again  at  once  upon  the  cottage  and  its  vi- 
cinity. What  took  place  during  this  interval  is  a  secret 
from  the  world  of  men ;  but  when  it  was  over  the  voice 
of  Esther  spoke  evenly  and  without  interruption  for  per- 
haps half  a  minute,  and  as  soon  as  that  ceased  heavy  and 
uncertain  footfalls  crossed  the  parlour  and  mounted 
lurching  up  the  stairs.  The  girl  had  tamed  her  father, 
Van  Tromp  had  gone  obediently  to  bed;  so  much  was 
obvious  to  the  watcher  in  the  road.  And  yet  he  still 
waited,  straining  his  ears,  and  with  terror  and  sickness 
at  his  heart;  for  if  Esther  had  followed  her  father,  if  she 
had  even  made  one  movement  in  this  great  conspiracy 
of  men  and  nature  to  be  still,  Dick  must  have  had  in- 
stant knowledge  of  it  from  his  station  before  the  door ; 
and  if  she  had  not  moved,  must  she  not  have  fainted  ? 
or  might  she  not  be  dead  ? 

He  could  hear  the  cottage  clock  deliberately  measure 
out  the  seconds ;  time  stood  still  with  him ;  an  almost 
superstitious  terror  took  command  of  his  faculties ;  at 
last,  he  could  bear  no  more,  and  springing  through  the 
little  garden  in  two  bounds,  he  put  his  face  against  the 
window.  The  blind,  which  had  not  been  drawn  fully 
down,  left  an  open  chink  about  an  inch  in  height  along 
the  bottom  of  the  glass,  and  the  whole  parlour  was  thus 
exposed  to  Dick's  investigation.  Esther  sat  upright  at 
the  table,  her  head  resting  on  her  hand,  her  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  candle.  Her  brows  were  slightly  bent,  her 
mouth  slightly  open;  her  whole  attitude  so  still  and 
settled  that  Dick  could  hardly  fancy  that  she  breathed. 
She  had  not  stirred  at  the  sound  of  Dick's  arrival.  Soon 
after,  making  a  considerable  disturbance  amid  the  vast 
silence  of  the  night,  the  clock  lifted  up  its  voice,  whined 

317 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

for  a  while  like  a  partridge,  and  then  eleven  times  hooted 
like  a  cuckoo.  Still  Esther  continued  immovable  and 
gazed  upon  the  candle.  Midnight  followed,  and  then 
one  of  the  morning;  and  still  she  had  not  stirred,  nor 
had  Richard  Naseby  dared  to  quit  the  window.  And 
then  about  half  past  one,  the  candle  she  had  been  thus 
intently  watching  flared  up  into  a  last  blaze  of  paper, 
and  she  leaped  to  her  feet  with  an  ejaculation,  looked 
about  her  once,  blew  out  the  light,  turned  round,  and 
was  heard  rapidly  mounting  the  staircase  in  the  dark. 

Dick  was  left  once  more  alone  to  darkness  and  to  that 
dulled  and  dogged  state  of  mind  when  a  man  thinks 
that  misery  must  now  have  done  her  worst,  and  is  al- 
most glad  to  think  so.  He  turned  and  walked  slowly 
towards  the  stile;  she  had  told  him  no  hour,  and  he 
was  determined,  whenever  she  came,  that  she  should 
find  him  waiting.  As  he  got  there  the  day  began  to 
dawn,  and  he  leaned  over  a  hurdle  and  beheld  the  shad- 
ows flee  away.  Up  went  the  sun  at  last  out  of  a  bank 
of  clouds  that  were  already  disbanding  in  the  east;  a 
herald  wind  had  already  sprung  up  to  sweep  the  leafy 
earth  and  scatter  the  congregated  dewdrops.  ''Alas! " 
thought  Dick  Naseby,  "how  can  any  other  day  come 
so  distastefully  to  me  ?  "  He  still  wanted  his  experience 
of  the  morrow. 


318 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   ELOPEMENT 

It  was  probably  on  the  stroke  of  ten,  and  Dick  had 
been  half  asleep  for  some  time  against  the  bank,  when 
Esther  came  up  the  road  carrying  a  bundle.  Some 
kind  of  instinct,  or  perhaps  the  distant  light  footfalls, 
recalled  him,  while  she  was  still  a  good  way  otf,  to  the 
possession  of  his  faculties,  and  he  half  raised  himself 
and  blinked  upon  the  world.  It  took  him  some  time 
to  re-collect  his  thoughts.  He  had  awakened  with  a 
certain  blank  and  childish  sense  of  pleasure;  but  this 
feeling  gradually  died  away,  and  was  then  suddenly 
and  stunningly  succeeded  by  a  conviction  of  the  truth. 
The  whole  story  of  the  past  night  sprang  into  his  mind 
with  every  detail,  as  by  an  exercise  of  the  direct  and 
speedy  sense  of  sight,  and  he  arose  from  the  ditch  and, 
with  rueful  courage,  went  to  meet  his  love. 

She  came  up  to  him  steady  and  fast,  her  face  still  pale, 
but  to  all  appearance  perfectly  composed;  and  she 
showed  neither  surprise,  relief,  nor  pleasure  at  finding 
her  lover  on  the  spot.     Nor  did  she  offer  him  her  hand. 

''Here  I  am,"  said  he. 

*' Yes,"  she  replied;  and  then,  without  a  pause  or 
any  change  of  voice,  "  I  want  you  to  take  me  away," 
she  added. 

3^9 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

''Away ?"  he  repeated.     ''How?,  Where?" 

"To-day,"  she  said.  " I  do  not  care  where  it  is,  but 
I  want  you  to  take  me  away." 

"  For  how  long  ?  I  do  not  understand,"  gasped  Dick. 

"I  shall  never  come  back  here  any  more,"  was  all 
she  answered. 

Wild  words  uttered,  as  these  were,  with  perfect  quiet 
of  manner,  exercise  a  double  influence  on  the  hearer's 
mind.  Dick  was  confounded;  he  recovered  from  as- 
tonishment only  to  fall  into  doubt  and  alarm.  He 
looked  upon  her  frozen  attitude,  so  discouraging  for  a 
lover  to  behold,  and  recoiled  from  the  thoughts  which 
it  suggested. 

"To  me?"  he  asked.  "Are  you  coming  to  me, 
Esther  ?  " 

"I  want  you  to  take  me  away,"  she  repeated,  with 
weary  impatience.  "Take  me  away — take  me  away 
from  here." 

The  situation  was  not  sufficiently  defined.  Dick 
asked  himself  with  concern  whether  she  were  alto- 
gether in  her  right  wits.  To  take  her  away,  to  marry 
her,  to  work  off  his  hands  for  her  support,  Dick  was 
content  to  do  all  this;  yet  he  required  some  show  of 
love  on  her  part.  He  was  not  one  of  those  tough-hided 
and  small-hearted  males  who  would  marry  their  love 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  rather  than  not  marry  her  at 
all.  He  desired  that  a  woman  should  come  to  his  arms 
with  an  attractive  willingness,  if  not  with  ardour.  And 
Esther's  bearing  was  more  that  of  despair  than  that  of 
love.     It  chilled  him  and  taught  him  wisdom. 

"Dearest,"  he  urged,  "tell  me  what  you  wish,  and 
you  shall  have  it;  tell  me  your  thoughts,  and  then  I  can 

520 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

advise  you.  But  to  go  from  here  without  a  plan,  with- 
out forethought,  in  the  heat  of  the  moment,  is  madder 
than  madness,  and  can  help  nothing.  I  am  not  speak- 
ing like  a  man,  but  I  speak  the  truth;  and  I  tell  you 
again,  the  thing's  absurd,  and  wrong,  and  hurtful." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  lowering,  languid  look  of 
wrath. 

' '  So  you  will  not  take  me  ?  "  she  said.  *'  Well,  I  will 
go  alone." 

And  she  began  to  step  forward  on  her  way.  But  he 
threw  himself  before  her. 

'* Esther,  Esther!"  he  cried. 

*'Let  me  go  —  don't  touch  me  —  what  right  have  you 
to  interfere  ?  Who  are  you,  to  touch  me  ?  "  she  flashed 
out,  shrill  with  anger. 

Then  being  made  bold  by  her  violence,  he  took  her 
firmly,  almost  roughly,  by  the  arm,  and  held  her  while 
he  spoke. 

"You  know  well  who  I  am,  and  what  I  am,  and  that 
I  love  you.  You  say  I  will  not  help  you ;  but  your  heart 
knows  the  contrary.  It  is  you  who  will  not  help  me; 
for  you  will  not  tell  me  what  you  want.  You  see  —  or 
you  could  see,  if  you  took  the  pains  to  look  —  how  I 
have  waited  here  all  night  to  be  ready  at  your  service. 
I  only  asked  information;  I  only  urged  you  to  consider; 
and  I  still  urge  you  to  think  better  of  your  fancies.  But 
if  your  mind  is  made  up,  so  be  it;  I  will  beg  no  longer; 
1  will  give  you  my  order;  and  I  will  not  allow  —  not 
allow  you  to  go  hence  alone." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  while  with  cold,  unkind  scru- 
tiny, like  one  who  tries  the  temper  of  a  tool. 

**  Well,  take  me  away  then,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 
321 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

*  *  Good, "  said  Dick.  * '  Come  with  me  to  the  stables ; 
there  we  shall  get  the  pony-trap  and  drive  to  the  junc- 
tion. To-night  you  shall  be  in  London.  I  am  yours  so 
wholly  that  no  words  can  make  me  more  so;  and,  be- 
sides, you  know  it,  and  the  words  are  needless.  May 
God  help  me  to  be  good  to  you,  Esther  —  may  God  help 
me!  for  I  see  that  you  will  not." 

So,  without  more  speech,  they  set  out  together,  and 
were  already  got  some  distance  from  the  spot,  ere  he 
observed  that  she  was  still  carrying  the  hand-bag.  She 
gave  it  up  to  him,  passively,  but  when  he  offered  her 
his  arm,  merely  shook  her  head  and  pursed  up  her  lips. 
The  sun  shone  clearly  and  pleasantly;  the  wind  was 
fresh  and  brisk  upon  their  faces,  and  smelt  racily  of 
woods  and  meadows.  As  they  went  down  into  the 
Valley  of  the  Thyme,  the  babble  of  the  stream  rose  into 
the  air  like  a  perennial  laughter.  On  the  far-away  hills, 
sunburst  and  shadow  raced  along  the  slopes  and  leaped 
from  peak  to  peak.  Earth,  air,  and  water,  each  seemed 
in  better  health  and  had  more  of  the  shrewd  salt  of  life 
in  them  than  upon  ordinary  mornings ;  and  from  east  to 
west,  from  the  lowest  glen  to  the  height  of  heaven, 
from  every  look  and  touch  and  scent,  a  human  creature 
could  gather  the  most  encouraging  intelligence  as  to  the 
durability  and  spirit  of  the  universe. 

Through  all  this  walked  Esther,  picking  her  small 
steps  like  a  bird,  but  silent  and  with  a  cloud  under  her 
thick  eyebrows.  She  seemed  insensible,  not  only  of 
nature,  but  of  the  presence  of  her  companion.  She  was 
altogether  engrossed  in  herself,  and  looked  neither  to 
right  nor  to  left,  but  straight  before  her  on  the  road. 
When  they  came  to  the  bridge,  however,  she  halted, 

322 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

leaned  on  the  parapet,  and  stared  for  a  moment  at  the 
clear,  brown  pool,  and  swift,  transient  snowdrift  of  the 
rapids. 

'*!  am  going  to  drink,"  she  said;  and  descended  the 
winding  footpath  to  the  margin. 

There  she  drank  greedily  in  her  hands,  and  washed 
her  temples  with  water.  The  coolness  seemed  to  break, 
for  an  instant,  the  spell  that  lay  upon  her;  for,  instead 
of  hastening  forward  again  in  her  dull,  indefatigable 
tramp,  she  stood  still  where  she  was,  for  near  a  minute, 
looking  straight  before  her.  And  Dick  from  above  on 
the  bridge  where  he  stood  to  watch  her,  saw  a  strange, 
equivocal  smile  dawn  slowly  on  her  face  and  pass  away 
again  at  once  and  suddenly,  leaving  her  as  grave  as 
ever;  and  the  sense  of  distance,  which  it  is  so  cruel  for 
a  lover  to  endure,  pressed  with  every  moment  more 
heavily  on  her  companion.  Her  thoughts  were  all  se- 
cret; her  heart  was  locked  and  bolted;  and  he  stood 
without,  vainly  wooing  her  with  his  eyes. 

"Do  you  feel  better  ?  "  asked  Dick,  as  she  at  last  re- 
joined him ;  and  after  the  constraint  of  so  long  a  silence, 
his  voice  sounded  foreign  to  his  own  ears. 

She  looked  at  him  for  an  appreciable  fraction  of  a 
minute  ere  she  answered,  and  when  she  did,  it  was  in 
the  monosyllable —  '*  Yes." 

Dick's  solicitude  was  nipped  and  frosted.  His  words 
died  away  on  his  tongue.  Even  his  eyes,  despairing 
of  encouragement,  ceased  to  attend  on  hers.  And  they 
went  on  in  silence  through  Kirton  hamlet,  where  an 
old  man  followed  them  with  his  eyes,  and  perhaps  en- 
vied them  their  youth  and  love;  and  across  the  ivy 
beck  where  the  mill  was  splashing  and  grumbling  low 

323 


THE   STORY   OF   A    LIE 

thunder  to  itself  in  the  chequered  shadow  of  the  dell, 
and  the  miller  before  the  door  was  beating  flour  from 
his  hands  as  he  whistled  a  modulation ;  and  up  by  the 
high  spinney,  whence  they  saw  the  mountains  upon 
either  hand ;  and  down  the  hill  again  to  the  back  courts 
and  oifices  of  Naseby  House,  Esther  had  kept  ahead 
all  the  way,  and  Dick  plodded  obediently  in  her  wake; 
but  as  they  neared  the  stables,  he  pushed  on  and  took 
the  lead.  He  would  have  preferred  her  to  await  him 
in  the  road  while  he  went  on  and  brought  the  carriage 
back,  but  after  so  many  repulses  and  rebuffs  he  lacked 
courage  to  offer  the  suggestion.  Perhaps,  too,  he  felt 
it  wiser  to  keep  his  convoy  within  sight.  So  they  en- 
tered the  yard  in  Indian  file,  like  a  tramp  and  his  wife. 
The  groom's  eyebrows  rose  as  he  received  the  order 
for  the  pony-phaeton,  and  kept  rising  during  all  his 
preparations.  Esther  stood  bolt  upright  and  looked 
steadily  at  some  chickens  in  the  corner  of  the  yard. 
Master  Richard  himself,  thought  the  groom,  was  not  in 
his  ordinary ;  for  in  truth,  he  carried  the  hand-bag  like 
a  talisman,  and  either  stood  listless,  or  set  off  suddenly 
walking  in  one  direction  after  another  with  brisk,  de- 
cisive footsteps.  Moreover,  he  had  apparently  neglected 
to  wash  his  hands,  and  bore  the  air  of  one  returning 
from  a  prolonged  nutting  ramble.  Upon  the  groom's 
countenance  there  began  to  grow  up  an  expression  as 
of  one  about  to  whistle.  And  hardly  had  the  carriage 
turned  the  corner  and  rattled  into  the  high  road  with 
this  inexplicable  pair,  than  the  whistle  broke  forth  — 
prolonged,  and  low  and  tremulous ;  and  the  groom,  al- 
ready so  far  relieved,  vented  the  rest  of  his  surprise  in 
one  simple  English  word,  friendly  to  the  mouth  of  Jack- 

324 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

tar  and  the  sooty  pitman,  and  hurried  to  spread  the 
news  round  the  servants'  hall  of  Naseby  House.  Lunch- 
eon would  be  on  the  table  in  little  beyond  an  hour;  and 
the  Squire,  on  sitting  down,  would  hardly  fail  to  ask  for 
Master  Richard.  Hence,  as  the  intelligent  reader  can 
foresee,  this  groom  has  a  part  to  play  in  the  imbroglio. 

Meantime,  Dick  had  been  thinking  deeply  and  bit- 
terly. It  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  love  had  gone  from 
him  indeed,  yet  gone  but  a  little  way ;  as  if  he  needed 
but  to  fmd  the  right  touch  or  intonation,  and  her  heart 
would  recognise  him  and  be  melted.  Yet  he  durst  not 
open  his  mouth,  and  drove  in  silence  till  they  had  passed 
the  main  park-gates  and  turned  into  the  cross-cut  lane 
along  the  wall.  Then  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  must  be 
now,  or  never. 

** Can't  you  see  you  are  killing  me?"  he  cried. 
'*  Speak  to  me,  look  at  me,  treat  me  like  a  human 
man." 

She  turned  slowly  and  looked  him  in  the  face  with 
eyes  that  seemed  kinder.  He  dropped  the  reins  and 
caught  her  hand,  and  she  made  no  resistance  although 
her  touch  was  unresponsive.  But  when,  throwing  one 
arm  round  her  waist,  he  sought  to  kiss  her  lips,  not  like 
a  lover  indeed,  not  because  he  wanted  to  do  so,  but  as 
a  desperate  man  who  puts  his  fortunes  to  the  touch,  she 
drew  away  from  him,  with  a  knot  in  her  forehead, 
backed  and  shied  about  fiercely  with  her  head,  and 
pushed  him  from  her  with  her  hand.  Then  there  was 
no  room  left  for  doubt,  and  Dick  saw,  as  clear  as  sun- 
light, that  she  had  a  distaste  or  nourished  a  grudge 
against  him. 

**Then  you  don't  love  me?"  he  said,  drawing  back 
325 


THE  STORY  OF   A   LIE 

from  her,  he  also,  as  though  her  touch  had  burnt  him ; 
and  then,  as  she  made  no  answer,  he  repeated  with  an- 
other intonation,  imperious  and  yet  still  pathetic,  "You 
don't  love  me,  do  you,  do  you  ?  " 

'*!  don't  know,"  she  replied.  ''Why  do  you  ask 
me  ?  Oh,  how  should  I  know  ?  It  has  all  been  lies  to- 
gether—  lies,  and  lies,  and  lies!  " 

He  cried  her  name  sharply,  like  a  man  who  has  taken 
a  physical  hurt,  and  that  was  the  last  word  that  either 
of  them  spoke  until  they  reached  Thymebury  Junc- 
tion. 

This  was  a  station  isolated  in  the  midst  of  moorlands, 
yet  living  on  the  great  up-line  to  London.  The  nearest 
town,  Thymebury  itself,  was  seven  miles  distant  along 
the  branch  they  call  the  Vale  of  Thyme  Railway.  It  was 
now  nearly  half  an  hour  past  noon,  the  down  train  had 
just  gone  by,  and  there  would  be  no  more  traffic  at  the 
junction  until  half-past  three,  when  the  local  train  comes 
in  to  meet  the  up  express  at  a  quarter  before  four.  The 
stationmaster  had  already  gone  off  to  his  garden,  which 
was  half  a  mile  away  in  a  hollow  of  the  moor ;  a  porter, 
who  was  just  leaving,  took  charge  of  the  phaeton,  and 
promised  to  return  it  before  night  to  Naseby  House ;  only 
a  deaf,  snuffy  and  stern  old  man  remained  to  play  pro- 
priety for  Dick  and  Esther. 

Before  the  phaeton  had  driven  off,  the  girl  had  entered 
the  station  and  seated  herself  upon  a  bench.  The  end- 
less, empty  moorlands  stretched  before  her,  entirely  un- 
enclosed, and  with  no  boundary  but  the  horizon.  Two 
lines  of  rails,  a  wagon  shed,  and  a  few  telegraph  posts 
alone  diversified  the  outlook.  As  for  sounds,  the  si- 
lence was  unbroken  save  by  the  chant  of  the  telegraph 

326 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

wires  and  the  crying  of  the  plovers  on  the  waste.  With 
the  approach  of  midday  the  wind  had  more  and  more 
fallen,  it  was  now  sweltering  hot,  and  the  air  trembled 
in  the  sunshine. 

Dick  paused  for  an  instant  on  the  threshold  of  the 
platform.  Then,  in  two  steps,  he  was  by  her  side  and 
speaking  almost  with  a  sob. 

**  Esther,"  he  said,  **  have  pity  on  me.  What  have  I 
done  ?  Can  you  not  forgive  me  ?  Esther,  you  loved  me 
once  —  can  you  not  love  me  still  ?  " 

''How  can  I  tell  you.?'  How  am  I  to  know.^"  she 
answered.  "You  are  all  a  lie  to  me  —  all  a  lie  from 
first  to  last.  You  were  laughing  at  my  folly,  playing 
with  me  like  a  child,  at  the  very  time  when  you  declared 
you  loved  me.  Which  was  true  ?  was  any  of  it  true  ? 
or  was  it  all,  all  a  mockery  ?  I  am  weary  trying  to  find 
out.  And  you  say  I  loved  you;  1  loved  my  father's 
friend  I  never  loved,  I  never  heard  of,  you,  until  that 
man  came  home  and  I  began  to  find  myself  deceived. 
Give  me  back  my  father,  be  what  you  were  before,  and 
you  may  talk  of  love  indeed." 

"  Then  you  cannot  forgive  me  —  cannot  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  answered.  "You 
do  not  understand." 

"  Is  that  your  last  word,  Esther  ?  "  said  he,  very  white 
and  biting  his  lip  to  keep  it  still. 

"Yes;  that  is  my  last  word,"  replied  she. 

"Then  we  are  here  on  false  pretences,  and  we  stay 
here  no  longer,"  he  said.  "Had  you  still  loved  me, 
right  or  wrong,  1  should  have  taken  you  away,  because 
then  I  could  have  made  you  happy.  But  as  it  is  —  I 
must  speak  plainly  —  what  you  proposed  is  degrading 

327 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

to  you  and  an  insult  to  me,  and  a  rank  unkindness  to 
your  father.  Your  father  may  be  this  or  that,  but  you 
should  use  him  like  a  fellow-creature." 

*'  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  flashed.  "I  leave  him 
my  house  and  all  my  money;  it  is  more  than  he  de- 
serves. I  wonder  you  dare  speak  to -me  about  that 
man.  And  besides,  it  is  all  he  cares  for;  let  him  take 
it,  and  let  me  never  hear  from  him  again." 

**]  thought  you  romantic  about  fathers,"  he  said. 

*'  Is  that  a  taunt  ?  "  she  demanded. 

*'No,"  he  replied,  *'it  is  an  argument.  No  one  can 
make  you  like  him,  but  don't  disgrace  him  in  his  own 
eyes.  He  is  old,  Esther,  old  and  broken  down.  Even 
I  am  sorry  for  him,  and  he  has  been  the  loss  of  all  I 
cared  for.  Write  to  your  aunt ;  when  I  see  her  answer 
you  can  leave  quietly  and  naturally,  and  I  will  take  you 
to  your  aunt's  door.  But  in  the  meantime  you  must  go 
home.  You  have  no  money,  and  so  you  are  helpless, 
and  must  do  as  I  tell  you;  and  believe  me,  Esther,  I  do 
all  for  your  good,  and  your  good  only,  so  God  help  me." 

She  had  put  her  hand  into  her  pocket  and  withdrawn 
it  empty. 

"I  counted  upon  you,"  she  wailed. 

''You  counted  rightly,  then,"  he  retorted.  **I  will 
not,  to  please  you  for  a  moment,  make  both  of  us  un- 
happy for  our  lives ;  and  since  I  cannot  marry  you,  we 
have  only  been  too  long  away  and  must  go  home  at 
once." 

''Dick,"  she  cried  suddenly,  "perhaps  I  might — 
perhaps  in  time  —  perhaps " 

"There  is  no  perhaps  about  the  matter,"  interrupted 
Dick.     "  I  must  go  and  bring  the  phaeton." 

328 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

And  with  that  he  strode  from  the  station,  all  in  a  glow 
of  passion  and  virtue.  Esther,  whose  eyes  had  come 
alive  and  her  cheeks  flushed  during  these  last  words, 
relapsed  in  a  second  into  a  state  of  petrifaction.  She 
remained  without  motion  during  his  absence,  and  when 
he  returned  suffered  herself  to  be  put  back  into  the 
phaeton,  and  driven  off  on  the  return  journey  like  an 
idiot  or  a  tired  child.  Compared  with  what  she  was 
now,  her  condition  of  the  morning  seemed  positively 
natural.  She  sat  cold  and  white  and  silent,  and  there 
was  no  speculation  in  her  eyes.  Poor  Dick  flailed  and 
flailed  at  the  pony,  and  once  tried  to  whistle,  but  his 
courage  was  going  down ;  huge  clouds  of  despair  gath- 
ered together  in  his  soul,  and  from  time  to  time  their 
darkness  was  divided  by  a  piercing  flash  of  longing  and 
regret.  He  had  lost  his  love  —  he  had  lost  his  love  for 
good. 

The  pony  was  tired,  and  the  hills  very  long  and 
steep,  and  the  air  sultrier  than  ever,  for  now  the  breeze 
began  to  fail  entirely.  It  seemed  as  if  this  miserable 
drive  would  never  be  done,  as  if  poor  Dick  would  never 
be  able  to  go  away  and  be  comfortably  wretched  by 
himself;  for  all  his  desire  was  to  escape  from  her  pres- 
ence and  the  reproach  of  her  averted  looks.  He  had 
lost  his  love,  he  thought  —  he  had  lost  his  love  for 
good. 

They  were  already  not  far  from  the  cottage,  when  his 
heart  again  faltered  and  he  appealed  to  her  once  more, 
speaking  low  and  eagerly  in  broken  phrases. 

**  I  cannot  live  without  your  love,"  he  concluded. 

*M  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,"  she  replied, 
and  I  believe  with  perfect  truth. 

329 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

"Then,"  said  he,  wounded  to  the  quick,  '* your  aunt 
might  come  and  fetch  you  herself.  Of  course  you  can 
command  me  as  you  please,  but  I  think  it  would  be 
better  so." 

'*  Oh  yes,"  she  said  wearily,  *'  better  so." 

This  was  the  only  exchange  of  words  between  them 
till  about  four  o'clock;  the  phaeton,  mounting  the  lane, 
"opened  out"  the  cottage  between  the  leafy  banks. 
Thin  smoke  went  straight  up  from  the  chimney ;  the 
flowers  in  the  garden,  the  hawthorn  in  the  lane,  hung 
down  their  heads  in  the  heat ;  the  stillness  was  broken 
only  by  the  sound  of  hoofs.  For  right  before  the  gate 
a  livery  servant  rode  slowly  up  and  down,  leading  a 
saddle  horse.  And  in  this  last  Dick  shuddered  to  iden- 
tify his  father's  chestnut. 

Alas !  poor  Richard,  what  should  this  portend  ? 

The  servant,  as  in  duty  bound,  dismounted  and  took 
the  phaeton  into  his  keeping,  yet  Dick  thought  he  touched 
his  hat  to  him  with  something  of  a  grin.  Esther,  pas- 
sive as  ever,  was  helped  out  and  crossed  the  garden 
with  a  slow  and  mechanical  gait,  and  Dick  following 
close  behind  her,  heard  from  within  the  cottage  his 
father's  voice  upraised  in  anathema,  and  the  shriller 
tones  of  the  Admiral  responding  in  the  key  of  war. 


350 


CHAPTER  Vm 


BATTLE   ROYAL 


Squire  Naseby,  on  sitting  down  to  lunch,  had  inquired 
for  Dick,  whom  he  had  not  seen  since  the  day  before  at 
dinner;  and  the  servant  answering  awkwardly  that 
Master  Richard  had  come  back,  but  had  gone  out  again 
with  the  pony-phaeton,  his  suspicions  became  aroused, 
and  he  cross-questioned  the  man  until  the  whole  was 
out.  It  appeared  from  this  report  that  Dick  had  been 
going  about  for  nearly  a  month  with  a  girl  in  the  Vale 

—  a  Miss  Van  Tromp;  that  she  lived  near  Lord  Tre- 
vanion's  upper  wood;  that  recently  Miss  Van  Tromp's 
papa  had  returned  home  from  foreign  parts  after  a  pro- 
longed absence;  that  this  papa  was  an  old  gentleman, 
very  chatty  and  free  with  his  money  in  the  public-house — 
whereupon  Mr.  Naseby's  face  became  encrimsoned  ; 
that  the  papa,  furthermore,  was  said  to  be  an  admiral 

—  whereupon  Mr.  Naseby  spat  out  a  whistle  brief  and 
fierce  as  an  oath ;  that  Master  Dick  seemed  very  friendly 
with  the  papa — '*God  help  him!"  said  Mr.  Naseby; 
that  last  night  Master  Dick  had  not  come  in,  and  to-day 
he  had  driven  away  in  the  phaeton  with  the  young  lady. 

"Young  woman,"  corrected  Mr.  Naseby. 
**Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man,  who  had  been  unwilling 
enough  to  gossip  from  the  first,  and  was  now  cowed 

33  > 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

by  the  effect  of  his  communications  on  the  master. 
''  Young  woman,  sir!" 

*'  Had  they  luggage  ?"  demanded  the  Squire. 

**Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Naseby  was  silent  for  a  moment,  struggling  to 
keep  down  his  emotion,  and  he  mastered  it  so  far  as  to 
mount  into  the  sarcastic  vein,  when  he  was  in  the  near- 
est danger  of  melting  into  the  sorrowful. 

''And  was  this  —  this  Van  Dunk  with  them?"  he 
asked,  dwelling  scornfully  on  the  name. 

The  servant  believed  not,  and  being  eager  to  shift  the 
responsibility  to  other  shoulders,  suggested  that  perhaps 
the  master  had  better  inquire  further  from  George  the 
stableman  in  person. 

''Tell  him  to  saddle  the  chestnut  and  come  with  me. 
He  can  take  the  grey  gelding ;  for  we  may  ride  fast.  And 
then  you  can  take  away  this  trash,"  added  Mr.  Naseby, 
pointingto  the  luncheon ;  and  he  arose,  lordly  in  his  anger, 
and  marched  forth  upon  the  terrace  to  await  his  horse. 

There  Dick's  old  nurse  shrunk  up  to  him,  for  the  news 
went  like  wildfire  over  Naseby  House,  and  timidly  ex- 
pressed a  hope  that  there  was  nothing  much  amiss  with 
the  young  master. 

"I'll  pull  him  through,"  the  Squire  said  grimly,  as 
though  he  meant  to  pull  him  through  a  threshing  mill; 
"I'll  save  him  from  this  gang;  God  help  him  with  the 
next!  He  has  a  taste  for  low  company,  and  no  natural 
affections  to  steady  him.  His  father  was  no  society  for 
him ;  he  must  go  fuddling  with  a  Dutchman,  Nance,  and 
now  he's  caught.  Let  us  pray  he'll  take  the  lesson,"  he 
added,  more  gravely,  "  but  youth  is  here  to  make  trou- 
bles, and  age  to  pull  them  out  again." 

332 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

Nance  whimpered  and  recalled  several  episodes  of 
Dick's  childhood,  which  moved  Mr.  Naseby  to  blow  his 
nose  and  shake  her  hard  by  the  hand;  and  then,  the 
horse  having  arrived  opportunely,  to  get  himself  with- 
out delay  into  the  saddle  and  canter  off. 

He  rode  straight,  hot  spur,  to  Thymebury,  where,  as 
was  to  be  expected,  he  could  glean  no  tidings  of  the 
runaways.  They  had  not  been  seen  at  the  George; 
they  had  not  been  seen  at  the  station.  The  shadow 
darkened  on  Mr.  Naseby's  face;  the  junction  did  not 
occur  to  him ;  his  last  hope  was  for  Van  Tromp's  cot- 
tage; thither  he  bade  George  guide  him,  and  thither  he 
followed,  nursing  grief,  anxiety,  and  indignation  in  his 
heart. 

*'Here  it  is,  sir,"  said  George,  stopping, 

"  What!  on  my  own  land! "  he  cried.  "  How's  this  ? 
I  let  this  place  to  somebody — M '  Whirter  or  M  'Glashan. " 

**Miss  M'Glashan  was  the  young  lady's  aunt,  sir,  I 
believe,"  returned  George. 

'*Ay — dummies,"  said  the  Squire.  "I  shall  whistle 
for  my  rent  too.     Here,  take  my  horse." 

The  Admiral,  this  hot  afternoon,  was  sitting  by  the 
window  with  a  long  glass.  He  already  knew  the  Squire 
by  sight,  and  now,  seeing  him  dismount  before  the  cot- 
tage and  come  striding  through  the  garden,  concluded 
without  doubt  he  was  there  to  ask  for  Esther's  hand. 

*'This  is  why  the  girl  is  not  yet  home,"  he  thought; 
*'a  very  suitable  delicacy  on  young  Naseby's  part." 

And  he  composed  himself  with  some  pomp,  answered 
the  loud  rattle  of  the  riding  whip  upon  the  door  with  a 
dulcet  invitation  to  enter,  and  coming  forward  with  a 
bow  and  a  smile,  **Mr.  Naseby,  I  believe,"  said  he. 

333 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

The  Squire  came  armed  for  battle;  took  in  his  man 
from  top  to  toe  in  one  rapid  and  scornful  glance,  and 
decided  on  a  course  at  once.  He  must  let  the  fellow 
see  that  he  understood  him. 

**You  are  Mr.  Van  Tromp.?"  he  returned  roughly, 
and  without  taking  any  notice  of  the  proffered  hand. 

"The  same,  sir,"  replied  the  Admiral.  ''Pray  be 
seated." 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  Squire  point-blank,  "I  will  not 
be  seated.  1  am  told  that  you  are  an  admiral,"  he 
added. 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not  an  admiral,"  returned  Van  Tromp, 
who  now  began  to  grow  nettled  and  to  enter  into  the 
spirit  of  the  interview. 

"Then  why  do  you  call  yourself  one,  sir?" 

"I  have  to  ask  your  pardon,  I  do  not,"  says  Van 
Tromp,  as  grand  as  the  Pope. 

But  nothing  was  of  avail  against  the  Squire. 

"You  sail  under  false  colours  from  beginning  to  end," 
he  said.  "Your  very  house  was  taken  under  a  sham 
name." 

"It  is  not  my  house.  I  am  my  daughter's  guest," 
replied  the  Admiral.     "  If  it  were  my  house " 

"  Well  ?  "  said  the  Squire,  "  what  then  ?  hey .?" 

The  Admiral  looked  at  him  nobly,  but  was  silent. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Mr.  Naseby,  "  this  intimidation  is 
a  waste  of  time;  it  is  thrown  away  on  me,  sir;  it  will 
not  succeed  with  me.  I  will  not  permit  you  even  to 
gain  time  by  your  fencing.  Now,  sir,  I  presume  you 
understand  what  brings  me  here." 

"  I  am  entirely  at  a  loss  to  account  for  your  intrusion," 
bows  and  waves  Van  Tromp. 

534 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

*'I  will  try  to  tell  you,  then.  I  come  here  as  a 
father"  —  down  came  the  riding  whip  upon  the  table 

—  **I  have  right  and  justice  upon  my  side.  I  under- 
stand your  calculations,  but  you  calculated  without  me. 
I  am  a  man  of  the  world,  and  1  see  through  you  and 
your  manoeuvres.     I  am  dealing  now  with  a  conspiracy 

—  I  stigmatise  it  as  such,  and  1  will  expose  it  and  crush 
it.  And  now  I  order  you  to  tell  me  how  far  things 
have  gone,  and  whither  you  have  smuggled  my  un- 
happy son." 

"  My  God,  sir! "  Van  Tromp  broke  out,  "  I  have  had 
about  enough  of  this.  Your  son  ?  God  knows  where 
he  is  for  me!  What  the  devil  have  I  to  do  with  your 
son  ?  My  daughter  is  out,  for  the  matter  of  that ;  I 
might  ask  you  where  she  is,  and  what  would  you  say 
to  that  ?  But  this  is  all  midsummer  madness.  Name 
your  business  distinctly  and  be  off." 

*'How  often  am  1  to  tell  you.^"  cried  the  Squire. 
"Where  did  your  daughter  take  my  son  to-day  in  that 
cursed  pony  carriage  ?  " 

*'  In  a  pony  carriage  ?  "  repeated  Van  Tromp. 

*'Yes,  sir — with  luggage." 

**  Luggage  .^"  —  Van  Tromp  had  turned  a  little  pale. 

**  Luggage,  I  said — luggage!"  shouted  Naseby. 
**  You  may  spare  me  this  dissimulation.  Where's  my 
son  ?    You  are  speaking  to  a  father,  sir,  a  father." 

**  But,  sir,  if  this  be  true,"  out  came  Van  Tromp  in  a 
new  key,  'Mt  is  I  who  have  an  explanation  to  demand." 

'  *  Precisely.  There  is  the  conspiracy, "  retorted  Naseby. 
"Oh,"  he  added,  "  1  am  a  man  of  the  world.  I  can  see 
through  and  through  you." 

Van  Tromp  began  to  understand. 
335 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

"You  Speak  a  great  deal  about  being  a  father,  Mr. 
Naseby,"  said  he;  "I  believe  you  forget  that  the  appel- 
lation is  common  to  both  of  us.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  figure 
to  myself,  however  dimly,  how  any  man  —  I  have  not 
said  any  gentleman  —  could  so  brazenly  insult  another 
as  you  have  been  insulting  me  since  you  entered  this 
house.  For  the  first  time  1  appreciate  your  base  insinu- 
ations, and  I  despise  them  and  you.  You  were,  I  am 
told,  a  manufacturer;  I  am  an  artist;  I  have  seen  better 
days ;  I  have  moved  in  societies  where  you  would  not 
be  received,  and  dined  where  you  would  be  glad  to  pay 
a  pound  to  see  me  dining.  The  so-called  aristocracy  of 
wealth,  sir,  1  despise.  I  refuse  to  help  you ;  I  refuse  to 
be  helped  by  you.     There  lies  the  door." 

And  the  Admiral  stood  forth  in  a  halo. 

It  was  then  that  Dick  entered.  He  had  been  waiting 
in  the  porch  for  some  time  back,  and  Esther  had  been 
listlessly  standing  by  his  side.  He  had  put  out  his  hand 
to  bar  her  entrance,  and  she  had  submitted  without  sur- 
prise ;  and  though  she  seemed  to  listen,  she  scarcely  ap- 
peared to  comprehend.  Dick,  on  his  part,  was  as  white 
as  a  sheet;  his  eyes  burned  and  his  lips  trembled  with 
anger  as  he  thrust  the  door  suddenly  open,  introduced 
Esther  with  ceremonious  gallantry,  and  stood  forward 
and  knocked  his  hat  firmer  on  his  head  like  a  man 
about  to  leap. 

''  What  is  all  this  ?"  he  demanded. 

**  Is  this  your  father,  Mr.  Naseby  ?"  inquired  the  Ad- 
miral. 

"It  is,"  said  the  young  man. 

**  I  make  you  my  compliments, "  returned  Van  Tromp. 

'*Dick!"  cried  his  father,  suddenly  breaking  forth, 
536 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

'*  it  is  not  too  late,  is  it  ?  I  have  come  here  in  time  to 
save  you.  Come,  come  away  with  me  —  come  away 
from  this  place." 

And  he  fawned  upon  Dick  with  his  hands. 

"  Keep  your  hands  off  me,"  cried  Dick,  not  meaning 
unkindness,  but  because  his  nerves  were  shattered  by 
so  many  successive  miseries. 

'*No,  no,"  said  the  old  man,  "don't  repulse  your 
father,  Dick,  when  he  has  come  here  to  save  you. 
Don't  repulse  me,  my  boy.  Perhaps  I  have  not  been 
kind  to  you,  not  quite  considerate,  too  harsh;  my  boy, 
it  was  not  for  want  of  love.  Think  of  old  times.  I  was 
kind  to  you  then,  was  I  not }  When  you  were  a  child, 
and  your  mother  was  with  us."  Mr.  Naseby  was  in- 
terrupted by  a  sort  of  sob.  Dick  stood  looking  at  him 
in  a  maze.  ''Come  away,"  pursued  the  father  in  a 
whisper ;  "  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  any  consequences. 
I  am  a  man  of  the  world,  Dick ;  and  she  can  have  no 
claim  on  you  —  no  claim,  I  tell  you;  and  we'll  be  hand- 
some too,  Dick  —  we'll  give  them  a  good  round  figure, 
father  and  daughter,  and  there's  an  end." 

He  had  been  trying  to  get  Dick  towards  the  door,  but 
the  latter  stood  off. 

"You  had  better  take  care,  sir,  how  you  insult  that 
lady,"  said  the  son,  as  black  as  night. 

"You  would  not  choose  between  your  father  and 
your  mistress?"  said  the  father. 

"What  do  you  call  her,  sir?"  cried  Dick,  high  and  clear. 

Forbearance  and  patience  were  not  among  Mr.  Nase- 
by's  qualities. 

"I  called  her  your  mistress,"  he  shouted,  "and  I 
might  have  called  her  a " 

337 


THE  STORY   OF   A   LIE 

"That  is  an  unmanly  lie,"  replied  Dick,  slowly. 

'*Dick!  "  cried  the  father,  ''Dick!  " 

"I  do  not  care,"  said  the  son,  strengthening  himself 
against  his  own  heart;  *'I  —  I  have  said  it,  and  it's  the 
truth." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Dick,"  said  the  old  man  at  last,  in  a  voice  that  was 
shaken  as  by  a  gale  of  wind,  "I  am  going.  I  leave 
you  with  your  friends,  sir — with  your  friends.  I  came  to 
serve  you,  and  now  I  go  away  a  broken  man.  For  years 
I  have  seen  this  coming,  and  now  it  has  come.  You  never 
loved  me.  Now  you  have  been  the  death  of  me.  You 
may  boast  of  that.   Now  I  leave  you.   God  pardon  you ! " 

With  that  he  was  gone;  and  the  three  who  remained 
together  heard  his  horse's  hoofs  descend  the  lane. 
Esther  had  not  made  a  sign  throughout  the  interview, 
and  still  kept  silence  now  that  it  was  over;  but  the 
Admiral,  who  had  once  or  twice  moved  forward  and 
drawn  back  again,  now  advanced  for  good. 

"  You  are  a  man  of  spirit,  sir,"  said  he  to  Dick;  "but 
though  I  am  no  friend  to  parental  interference,  I  will 
say  that  you  are  heavy  on  the  governor."  Then  he 
added  with  a  chuckle:  "You  began,  Richard,  with  a 
silver  spoon,  and  here  you  are  in  the  water  like  the  rest 
Work,  work,  nothing  like  work.  You  have  parts,  you 
have  manners;  why,  with  application,  you  may  die  a 
millionaire!  " 

Dick  shook  himself;  he  took  Esther  by  the  hand, 
looking  at  her  mournfully. 

"Then  this  is  farewell,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  There  was  no  tone  in  her 
voice,  and  she  did  not  return  his  gaze. 

338 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 

"  For  ever,"  added  Dick. 

"  For  ever,"  she  repeated  mechanically. 

'*  I  have  had  hard  measure,"  he  continued.  *'  In  time, 
1  believe  I  could  have  shown  you  I  was  worthy,  and 
there  was  no  time  long  enough  to  show  how  much  I 
loved  you.     But  it  was  not  to  be.     I  have  lost  all." 

He  relinquished  her  hand,  still  looking  at  her,  and  she 
turned  to  leave  the  room. 

*'  Why,  what  in  fortune's  name  is  the  meaning  of  all 
this  ?  "  cried  Van  Tromp.     *'  Esther,  come  back! " 

"Let  her  go,"  said  Dick,  and  he  watched  her  disap- 
pear with  strangely  mingled  feelings.  For  he  had  fallen 
into  that  stage  when  men  have  the  vertigo  of  misfor- 
tune, court  the  strokes  of  destiny,  and  rush  towards  any- 
thing decisive,  that  it  may  free  them  from  suspense 
though  at  the  cost  of  ruin.  It  is  one  of  the  many  minor 
forms  of  suicide. 

"She  did  not  love  me,"  he  said,  turning  to  her 
father. 

"  I  feared  as  much,"  said  he,  "when  I  sounded  her. 
Poor  Dick,  poor  Dick !  And  yet  I  believe  I  am  as  much 
cut  up  as  you  are.     I  was  born  to  see  others  happy." 

"  You  forget,"  returned  Dick,  with  something  like  a 
sneer,  "  that  I  am  now  a  pauper." 

Van  Tromp  snapped  his  fingers. 

"Tut!  "  said  he;  "Esther  has  plenty  for  us  all." 

Dick  looked  at  him  with  some  wonder.  It  had  never 
dawned  upon  him  that  the  shiftless,  thriftless,  worth- 
less spongeing  parasite  was  yet,  after  all  and  in  spite  of 
all,  not  mercenary  in  the  issue  of  his  thoughts;  yet  so  it 
was. 

"Now,"  said  Dick,  "I  must  go." 

339 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

''  Go  ?  "  cried  Van  Tromp.  '*  Where  ?  Not  one  toot, 
Mr.  Richard  Naseby.  Here  you  shall  stay  in  the  mean- 
time !  and  —  well,  and  do  something  practical  —  adver- 
tise for  a  situation  as  private  secretary  —  and  when  you 
have  it,  go  and  welcome.  But  in  the  meantime,  sir,  no 
false  pride ;  we  must  stay  with  our  friends ;  we  must 
sponge  a  while  on  Papa  Van  Tromp,  who  has  sponged 
so  often  upon  us." 

*'  By  God,"  cried  Dick,  "  1  believe  you  are  the  best  of 
the  lot." 

*'  Dick,  my  boy,"  replied  the  Admiral,  winking,  ''you 
mark  me,  I  am  not  the  worst." 

''Then  why,"  began  Dick,  and  then  paused.  " But 
Esther,"  he  began  again,  once  more  to  interrupt  him- 
self. ' '  The  fact  is,  Admiral, "  he  came  out  with  it  roundly 
now,  "your  daughter  wished  to  run  away  from  you  to- 
day, and  I  only  brought  her  back  with  difficulty." 

"  In  the  pony-carriage  ?  "  asked  the  Admiral,  with  the 
silliness  of  extreme  surprise. 

"Yes,"  Dick  answered. 

"Why,  what  the  devil  was  she  running  away  from  ?" 

Dick  found  the  question  unusually  hard  to  answer. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "you  know  you're  a  bit  of  a  rip." 

"I  behave  to  that  girl,  sir,  like  an  archdeacon,"  re- 
plied Van  Tromp  warmly. 

"Well  —  excuse  me  —  but  you  know  you  drink," 
insisted  Dick. 

"I  know  that  1  was  a  sheet  in  the  wind's  eye,  sir, 
once  —  once  only,  since  I  reached  this  place,"  retorted 
the  Admiral.  "  And  even  then  I  was  fit  for  any  draw- 
ing-room. I  should  like  you  to  tell  me  how  many 
fathers,  lay  and  clerical,  go  upstairs  every  day  with  a 

340 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

face  like  a  lobster  and  cod's  eyes — and  are  dull,  upon 
the  back  of  it — not  even  mirth  for  the  money!  No,  if 
that's  what  she  runs  for,  all  1  say  is,  let  her  run." 

**  You  see,"  Dick  tried  it  again,  "she has  fancies " 

**  Confound  her  fancies !  "  cried  Van  Tromp.  **  I  used 
her  kindly ;  she  had  her  own  way ;  I  was  her  father. 
Besides,  I  had  taken  quite  a  liking  to  the  girl,  and  meant 
to  stay  with  her  for  good.  But  1  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Dick,  since  she  has  trifled  with  you  —  oh,  yes,  she  did 
though! — and  since  her  old  papa's  not  good  enough  for 
her — the  devil  take  her,  1  say." 

'*  You  will  be  kind  to  her  at  least  ?  "  said  Dick. 

'*!  never  was  unkind  to  a  living  soul,"  replied  the 
Admiral.     *'Firm  I  can  be,  but  not  unkind." 

''Well,"  said  Dick,  offering  his  hand.  ''God  bless 
you,  and  farewell." 

The  Admiral  swore  by  all  his  gods  he  should  not  go. 
'*Dick,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  selfish  dog;  you  forget 
your  old  Admiral.  You  wouldn't  leave  him  alone, 
would  you.?" 

It  was  useless  to  remind  him  that  the  house  was  not 
his  to  dispose  of,  that  being  a  class  of  considerations  to 
which  his  intelligence  was  closed ;  so  Dick  tore  himself 
off  by  force,  and  shouting  a  good-bye,  made  off  along 
the  lane  to  Thymebury. 


34' 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN   WHICH   THE   LIBERAL    EDITOR   APPEARS  AS    '' DEUS  EX 
MACHINA  " 

It  was  perhaps  a  week  later,  as  old  Mr.  Naseby  sat 
brooding  in  his  study,  that  there  was  shown  in  upon 
him,  on  urgent  business,  a  little  hectic  gentleman  shab- 
bily attired. 

''  I  have  to  ask  pardon  for  this  intrusion,  Mr.  Naseby," 
he  said;  "but  I  come  here  to  perform  a  duty.  My 
card  has  been  sent  in,  but  perhaps  you  may  not  know, 
what  it  does  not  tell  you,  that  I  am  the  editor  of  the 
Thymebury  Star." 

Mr.  Naseby  looked  up  indignant. 

''I  cannot  fancy,"  he  said,  ''that  we  have  much  in 
common  to  discuss." 

''I  have  only  a  word  to  say — one  piece  of  informa- 
tion to  communicate.  Some  months  ago,  we  had — you 
will  pardon  my  referring  to  it,  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary— but  we  had  an  unfortunate  difference  as  to  facts." 

"Have  you  come  to  apologise.^"  asked  the  Squire 
sternly. 

"No,  sir;  to  mention  a  circumstance.  On  the  morn- 
ing in  question,  your  son,  Mr.  Richard  Naseby " 

"  I  do  not  permit  his  name  to  be  mentioned." 

"You  will,  however,  permit  me,"  replied  the  Editor. 

"You  are  cruel,"  said  the  Squire.  He  was  right,  he 
was  a  broken  man. 

342 


THE  STORY   OF  A   LIE 

Then  the  Editor  described  Dick's  >yarning  visit;  and 
how  he  had  seen  in  the  lad's  eye  that  there  was  a 
thrashing  in  the  wind,  and  had  escaped  through  pity 
only  —  so  the  Editor  put  it — "through  pity  only,  sir. 
And  oh,  sir,"  he  went  on,  *'if  you  had  seen  him  speak- 
ing up  for  you,  I  am  sure  you  would  have  been  proud 
of  your  son.  I  know  1  admired  the  lad  myself,  and  in- 
deed that's  what  brings  me  here." 

"  I  have  misjudged  him,"  said  the  Squire.  ''Do  you 
know  where  he  is  ?  " 

*' Yes,  sir,  he  lies  sick  at  Thymebury." 

**  You  can  take  me  to  him  ?  " 

'Mean." 

*M  pray  God  he  may  forgive  me,"  said  the  father. 

And  he  and  the  Editor  made  post-haste  for  the  county 
town. 

Next  day  the  report  went  abroad  that  Mr.  Richard 
was  reconciled  to  his  father  and  had  been  taken  home 
to  Naseby  House.  He  was  still  ailing,  it  was  said,  and 
the  Squire  nursed  him  like  the  proverbial  woman.  Ru- 
mour, in  this  instance  did  no  more  than  justice  to  the  truth ; 
and  over  the  sick-bed  many  confidences  were  exchanged, 
and  clouds  that  had  been  growing  for  years  passed 
away  in  a  few  hours,  and  as  fond  mankind  loves  to 
hope,  forever.  Many  long  talks  had  been  fruitless  in 
external  action,  though  fruitful  for  the  understanding  of 
the  pair ;  but  at  last,  one  showery  Tuesday,  the  Squire 
might  have  been  observed  upon  his  way  to  the  cottage 
in  the  lane. 

The  old  gentleman  had  arranged  his  features  with  a 
view  to  self-command,  rather  than  external  cheerfulness; 
and  he  entered  the  cottage  on  his  visit  of  conciliation  with 

343 


THE  STORY  OF  A   LIE 

the  bearing  of  a  clergyman  come  to  announce  a  death. 

The  Admiral  and  his  daughter  were  both  within,  and 
both  looked  upon  their  visitor  with  more  surprise  than 
favour. 

**Sir,"  said  he  to  Van  Tromp,  *'l  am  told  I  have 
done  you  much  injustice." 

There  came  a  little  sound  in  Esther's  throat,  and  she 
put  her  hand  suddenly  to  her  heart. 

''You  have,  sir;  and  the  acknowledgment  suffices," 
replied  the  Admiral.  *'I  am  prepared,  sir,  to  be  easy 
with  you,  since  I  hear  you  have  made  it  up  with  my 
friend  Dick.  But  let  me  remind  you  that  you  owe  some 
apologies  to  this  young  lady  also." 

"  1  shall  have  the  temerity  to  ask  for  more  than  her 
forgiveness,"  said  the  Squire.  "Miss  Van  Tromp,"  he 
continued,  "once  I  was  in  great  distress,  and  knew 
nothing  of  you  or  your  character;  but  I  believe  you  will 
pardon  a  few  rough  words  to  an  old  man  who  asks  for- 
giveness from  his  heart.  I  have  heard  much  of  you 
since  then;  for  you  have  a  fervent  advocate  in  my 
house.  1  believe  you  will  understand  that  1  speak  of 
my  son.  He  is,  I  regret  to  say,  very  far  from  well ;  he 
does  not  pick  up  as  the  doctors  had  expected ;  he  has 
a  great  deal  upon  his  mind,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  my 
girl,  if  you  won't  help  us,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  lose  him. 
Come,  now,  forgive  him !  I  was  angry  with  him  once 
myself,  and  I  found  I  was  in  the  wrong.  This  is  only 
a  misunderstanding,  like  the  other,  believe  me;  and, 
with  one  kind  movement,  you  may  give  happiness  to 
him,  and  to  me,  and  to  yourself" 

Esther  made  a  movement  towards  the  door,  but  long 
before  she  reached  it  she  had  broken  forth  sobbing. 

344 


THE  STORY  OF  A  LIE 

"  It  is  all  right,"  said  the  Admiral;  *'  I  understand  the 
sex.     Let  me  make  you  my  compliments,  Mr.  Naseby." 

The  Squire  was  too  much  relieved  to  be  angry. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he  to  Esther,  '*you  must  not  agi- 
tate yourself." 

''She  had  better  go  up  and  see  him  right  away,"  sug- 
gested Van  Tromp. 

"  I  had  not  ventured  to  propose  it, "  replied  the  Squire. 
"  Les  convenances,  I  believe " 

**Je  m'en  fiche,"  cried  the  Admiral,  snapping  his  fin- 
gers. **  She  shall  go  and  see  my  friend  Dick.  Run  and 
get  ready,  Esther." 

Esther  obeyed. 

**She  has  not —  has  not  run  away  again  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Naseby,  as  soon  as  she  was  gone. 

''No,"  said  Van  Tromp,  " not  again.  She  is  a  dev- 
ilish odd  giri  though,  mind  you  that." 

"  But  I  cannot  stomach  the  man  with  the  carbuncles," 
thought  the  Squire. 

And  this  is  why  there  is  a  new  household  and  a 
brand-new  baby  in  Naseby  Dower  House ;  and  why  the 
great  Van  Tromp  lives  in  pleasant  style  upon  the  shores 
of  England ;  and  why  twenty-six  individual  copies  of 
the  Thymebury  Star  are  received  daily  at  the  door  of 
Naseby  House. 


345 


I/.  3 


